SuNjATA
the flood
Snorting to hear her list out all the reasons that people might find him decent company, he can’t help the playful roll of his eyes. “Well, that’s only one side of the coin.” He chuckles, exhaling a little sigh as he offers the flipside – the darker ones. “Safrin’s Betrayer, ex-Governor of Torchline, owner of the VlamVloed that I’m not quite sure exists anymore, more of a storm cloud than sun despite my name.” His voice takes on an accented sing-song kind of tone before he shakes his head and glances back at her with a lopsided smile. “And that’s just the brief blip of things I can remember.” He’d had enough near death experiences that some of his memory is spotty, even these days.
Either way, there’s yet another random fucking egg appearing that he doesn’t pay much mind to as he settles on the towel on the rock, letting the warmth of the sun try to bake some of his freckles back in, adding a golden tone to his skin despite the scars that would try to prove otherwise. He can feel her look, though, and if he preens a little under her gaze it’s entirely based off of the fact he’s the sex-frey demigod obviously and not his ego.
Humming a note of agreement that she’ll pluck the egg up, he thinks briefly back to his own painted egg back at his house – waiting to see what the fuck to do with it, even if Petronella had tried her best to destroy it thinking it was a toy with its brightly painted colors. Tilting his head toward her, he reaches up with his lightning scarred hand to drag a hand through his hair, brushing it back and tucking that hand beneath his head. “You’re very welcome.” He boasts a little proudly, not hiding the smile that quirks up his lips.
At the mention of having another LongNight behind them, that’s a consensus they can absolutely agree with, and one that the Flood hums a note of agreement to. “Cheers to that.” He agrees almost wearily, tilting his head toward the sun again. “Honestly? Lots of tents and trying to keep me in the middle of it to ward it away if it tries to fall.” Which isn’t a great option, but it’s the one he could come up with. He could make a shield over it – for sixty feet at least – and pray for the best result that kept the least amount of people from getting soaked as possible.
"I'm just trying to get some of it cleaned up before we do the big cleaning for it. Which, honestly, I've never seen so much fucking mud in my life and I nearly drowned once before in a monster made of the shit." His nose wrinkles, a touch of drama flaring from the Flood with the explanation.
Either way, there’s yet another random fucking egg appearing that he doesn’t pay much mind to as he settles on the towel on the rock, letting the warmth of the sun try to bake some of his freckles back in, adding a golden tone to his skin despite the scars that would try to prove otherwise. He can feel her look, though, and if he preens a little under her gaze it’s entirely based off of the fact he’s the sex-frey demigod obviously and not his ego.
Humming a note of agreement that she’ll pluck the egg up, he thinks briefly back to his own painted egg back at his house – waiting to see what the fuck to do with it, even if Petronella had tried her best to destroy it thinking it was a toy with its brightly painted colors. Tilting his head toward her, he reaches up with his lightning scarred hand to drag a hand through his hair, brushing it back and tucking that hand beneath his head. “You’re very welcome.” He boasts a little proudly, not hiding the smile that quirks up his lips.
At the mention of having another LongNight behind them, that’s a consensus they can absolutely agree with, and one that the Flood hums a note of agreement to. “Cheers to that.” He agrees almost wearily, tilting his head toward the sun again. “Honestly? Lots of tents and trying to keep me in the middle of it to ward it away if it tries to fall.” Which isn’t a great option, but it’s the one he could come up with. He could make a shield over it – for sixty feet at least – and pray for the best result that kept the least amount of people from getting soaked as possible.
"I'm just trying to get some of it cleaned up before we do the big cleaning for it. Which, honestly, I've never seen so much fucking mud in my life and I nearly drowned once before in a monster made of the shit." His nose wrinkles, a touch of drama flaring from the Flood with the explanation.
if i let go, would you hold on?
would we fly?
would we fly?
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.
