the sea speaks a little more honestly
“That’s kind of my thing, I guess.” He admits, his smile a touch honest as it is rueful. His luck had always been just enough to keep him from succumbing, while getting to that point had always been far too easy. Its as if his luck sat in a holding pen, available only when death was on the table, and if it wasn’t? Shit storm after shit storm.
And just when he thought it was finally starting to even out, with Ru and him, his life here in King’s End, he gets fucking infected. For over a year.
He doesn’t even notice the flowers really, not anymore. But as she focuses on them, he can only scan her face. The way the rain clings to her lashes like dewdrops before falling like tears, carving pathways down her damp cheeks. He knows what she isn’t saying. He knows she means he’s made of steel.
Better than iron like his father, ruling it with a grip much of the same material.
Focusing away from any of those thoughts to see the smirk that lifts the corner of her lip, Sunjata snorts and rolls his eyes playfully - that crooked smile on his face blooming again, lopsided with the one from his father on his cheek. “Obviously. What good are they if you can’t show them off?” He smirks, snorting again before he’s folding his wings back to let her up off his lap.
Her clothes are soaked, but as he stands and collects his - a knee popping in the process - the Flood waves a hand to get the water sucked out of her clothes and his own, pulling it from the surface of her skin to make it easier to slip it on. “Eh, I still turn into a prune. Pretty shit if you ask me.” With all that water magic and his skin still wrinkled if submerged too long.
And just when he thought it was finally starting to even out, with Ru and him, his life here in King’s End, he gets fucking infected. For over a year.
He doesn’t even notice the flowers really, not anymore. But as she focuses on them, he can only scan her face. The way the rain clings to her lashes like dewdrops before falling like tears, carving pathways down her damp cheeks. He knows what she isn’t saying. He knows she means he’s made of steel.
Better than iron like his father, ruling it with a grip much of the same material.
Focusing away from any of those thoughts to see the smirk that lifts the corner of her lip, Sunjata snorts and rolls his eyes playfully - that crooked smile on his face blooming again, lopsided with the one from his father on his cheek. “Obviously. What good are they if you can’t show them off?” He smirks, snorting again before he’s folding his wings back to let her up off his lap.
Her clothes are soaked, but as he stands and collects his - a knee popping in the process - the Flood waves a hand to get the water sucked out of her clothes and his own, pulling it from the surface of her skin to make it easier to slip it on. “Eh, I still turn into a prune. Pretty shit if you ask me.” With all that water magic and his skin still wrinkled if submerged too long.
to those who are willing to drown
SUNJATA
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.
