SUNJATA
the flood
He’d tell her if she asked about his scars. Because Sunjata is a survivor. He has multitudes of them that tell stories across his body - the highest degree of his Korofian heritage and upbringing. He kept them, only getting rid of one, because they were both reminders and lessons. And he knew enough that to erase the past and what was learned was only opening up room to repeat it.
But the pegasus takes over, his pale head with a beaklike marking lowering for her to inspect. He’s tall in this shift, too, a mirror of just how tall he was in person, but stills perfectly well as she ducks under his wing. His neck twitches with her touch, just like the equines she takes care of do, keeping tabs on where she is.
Then, her hand is in his mane and she swings up and after a few moments of settling herself, finds herself astride him, sunk behind his withers and out of the way of his powerful wings. Tracing them, though, perhaps he should have warned her, because the feathers flex and flare under her touch where the small ones meet the rest of his body, a shiver racing down his spine that’s momentary before he’s tucking his wings in at his sides and over her legs, taking a few steps to get her used to it before he’s angling toward the edge of the fence.
Sure that she can handle it, he starts to move, wings flaring out and flattening, prepping for flight as he gets the running start, and at the last second the pegasus pulls upward with a powerful gust of his wings. Up and up, the Flood curves over the edge of the fence line, holding steady, feeling her settle easier into the seat as he’s very conscious of keeping her centered even if the muscles that move feel a bit different beneath her than she’s used to. He keeps one pale ear forward while the other flicks back, to hear her over the wind and rain in case she says anything along the way.
But the pegasus takes over, his pale head with a beaklike marking lowering for her to inspect. He’s tall in this shift, too, a mirror of just how tall he was in person, but stills perfectly well as she ducks under his wing. His neck twitches with her touch, just like the equines she takes care of do, keeping tabs on where she is.
Then, her hand is in his mane and she swings up and after a few moments of settling herself, finds herself astride him, sunk behind his withers and out of the way of his powerful wings. Tracing them, though, perhaps he should have warned her, because the feathers flex and flare under her touch where the small ones meet the rest of his body, a shiver racing down his spine that’s momentary before he’s tucking his wings in at his sides and over her legs, taking a few steps to get her used to it before he’s angling toward the edge of the fence.
Sure that she can handle it, he starts to move, wings flaring out and flattening, prepping for flight as he gets the running start, and at the last second the pegasus pulls upward with a powerful gust of his wings. Up and up, the Flood curves over the edge of the fence line, holding steady, feeling her settle easier into the seat as he’s very conscious of keeping her centered even if the muscles that move feel a bit different beneath her than she’s used to. He keeps one pale ear forward while the other flicks back, to hear her over the wind and rain in case she says anything along the way.
I've got hooks in my sides that you left there
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.
