SUNJATA
the flood
'cause my life is like a bedroom door
don't lead me in when you feel low
don't lead me in when you feel low
It’s fire at the opposing side to Sunjata’s electricity – not that he was going to complain, of course. It was nice to see what other kinds of dragons there were (and to pointedly not think about void dragons or the dragon that Jigano had been that had paralyzed him ages ago). Fire was normal. Fire was easy. Fire could be controlled with his mastery over water, but it would require shifting back for it.
Which he isn’t wholly opposed to later – right now he’s a bit invested in tearing out the doe’s ribcage and all the goodies within it, fully giving over into his draconic shift. He comes out of it when he spots the smaller dragon tearing out a berry bush, one that’s rolled toward him like a tangleweed on the wind. He straightens, inspecting it, leaning forward to let a forked tongue clean some of the blood around his jaw before he plucks a berry from the branch to test it. Rumbling his agreement, Sunjata decides now is potentially as good a time as ever to shift into mostly himself so he could at least talk.
So he does, knelt at the side of the doe. The large black and scarred dragon becomes an equally scarred man with the black, scarred draconic wings – face half carved and splattered with blood, one arm covered in lightning strike scars, crisscrossing his skin while the other tattooed with waves down to the wrist. A wrist that’s got a bright red bow on it. Earrings glint from how he moves his head, one that dangles with feathers while the other a curved C of gold. He looks back up to the dragon as he goes to stand, conjuring a gleaming bubble of water that he washes and rinses his bloodied hands in before he flashes the dragon a wink. “You’ve got good taste.” He calls out over toward her, stepping over the luxere with a rustling of his wings to pluck a few berries from the torn out bush, inspecting them better.
Which he isn’t wholly opposed to later – right now he’s a bit invested in tearing out the doe’s ribcage and all the goodies within it, fully giving over into his draconic shift. He comes out of it when he spots the smaller dragon tearing out a berry bush, one that’s rolled toward him like a tangleweed on the wind. He straightens, inspecting it, leaning forward to let a forked tongue clean some of the blood around his jaw before he plucks a berry from the branch to test it. Rumbling his agreement, Sunjata decides now is potentially as good a time as ever to shift into mostly himself so he could at least talk.
So he does, knelt at the side of the doe. The large black and scarred dragon becomes an equally scarred man with the black, scarred draconic wings – face half carved and splattered with blood, one arm covered in lightning strike scars, crisscrossing his skin while the other tattooed with waves down to the wrist. A wrist that’s got a bright red bow on it. Earrings glint from how he moves his head, one that dangles with feathers while the other a curved C of gold. He looks back up to the dragon as he goes to stand, conjuring a gleaming bubble of water that he washes and rinses his bloodied hands in before he flashes the dragon a wink. “You’ve got good taste.” He calls out over toward her, stepping over the luxere with a rustling of his wings to pluck a few berries from the torn out bush, inspecting them better.
'cause i might make a move
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.
