SUNJATA
i was never the sharp knife, but i was never the dull mind
i was somewhere in between, a thorn, an acquiescent
i was somewhere in between, a thorn, an acquiescent
Thankfully, he doesn’t feel anything different. Not with the way she buries her face into his neck, against tattoos and a scent for her that’s only ever been his own, and Sunjata thinks perhaps Dahlia could have been wrong. That he’s acting like this out of fear and worry that’s unfounded, a whole long spiel that only serves to ruin more of his life as if he wasn’t good at doing that on his own already.
Her scent is normal. Her face feels normal as it presses against his neck. And maybe, just maybe, she would look as beautiful as she always had when he looks at her. “I know, I know.” He hums, his accent soft as it warps around the words and his arms wind around her, listening to her voice and clinging to her warm breath as she speaks against his skin. And when she goes to pull away, it’s perhaps the first time Sunjata does not let her.
“How could you have stopped her sooner, liefde?” He asks, soft and gentle, probing perhaps as if she knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked or been made aware of.
He finally loosens his tight embrace, silently steeling himself when he lets her pull back, eyes opening only partially to view her because he does owe her that — and once again maybe Dahlia is wrong.
Only, she isn’t.
He doesn’t glimpse much of her face, but the amount he does has the scars on his face lighting up in a strobing storm cloud of lightning strikes, a flinch and a twitch that has him drawing her in despite wanting nothing more than to gain distance. His heart thunders and he’s never wanted a cigarette and far too much alcohol more than right this second.
Her face, beautiful and pristine, dual colored eyes — warped into a horrible hollow shell of too sharp teeth extending from a cheekbone; eyes sunk in and twisted to become vertical and slit rather than horizontal — and he hadn’t managed to see much else other than that before he tries to bury it. Closer and closer and eyes shut tight while his body strobes and feathers spiral out from his neck and hair into his clothes, focusing on her scent because at least that’s the same, pretending like he isn’t living a walking, terrible nightmare.
Her scent is normal. Her face feels normal as it presses against his neck. And maybe, just maybe, she would look as beautiful as she always had when he looks at her. “I know, I know.” He hums, his accent soft as it warps around the words and his arms wind around her, listening to her voice and clinging to her warm breath as she speaks against his skin. And when she goes to pull away, it’s perhaps the first time Sunjata does not let her.
“How could you have stopped her sooner, liefde?” He asks, soft and gentle, probing perhaps as if she knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked or been made aware of.
He finally loosens his tight embrace, silently steeling himself when he lets her pull back, eyes opening only partially to view her because he does owe her that — and once again maybe Dahlia is wrong.
Only, she isn’t.
He doesn’t glimpse much of her face, but the amount he does has the scars on his face lighting up in a strobing storm cloud of lightning strikes, a flinch and a twitch that has him drawing her in despite wanting nothing more than to gain distance. His heart thunders and he’s never wanted a cigarette and far too much alcohol more than right this second.
Her face, beautiful and pristine, dual colored eyes — warped into a horrible hollow shell of too sharp teeth extending from a cheekbone; eyes sunk in and twisted to become vertical and slit rather than horizontal — and he hadn’t managed to see much else other than that before he tries to bury it. Closer and closer and eyes shut tight while his body strobes and feathers spiral out from his neck and hair into his clothes, focusing on her scent because at least that’s the same, pretending like he isn’t living a walking, terrible nightmare.
so you said it was for me, when you tried to break me
well you can save your breath, i know, i'm not the kind you pray for
well you can save your breath, i know, i'm not the kind you pray for
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
