if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy
“Yeah, it wasn’t a smart move.” He agrees with a weary kind of sigh – because he definitely has been channeled in the water before, though it made sense for him to be. He was the Flood and had control over the ocean, unlike most others these days. He’d be perfectly apt for it – but it was rare that Sunjata got channeled these days without a threat on the horizon, so he lets those thoughts settle while the conversation moves on.
His gaze remains on the crowds down below, finishing off the wing in his hand and depositing the remains in the discard plate between them, sparking some water to life to clean his hands off in and dry them, a bubble of it hovering by Melita in case she wished to wash her hands when she’s done, too. “That’s the hard part, I think.” Sunjata admits, the confession gripping his chest in a vice that makes his throat tight, that has him glaring down at the crowds below.
“I don’t know how long is enough but also enough to make it hurt less.” He wrinkles his nose, drawing silent for a few moments to chew on the inside of his cheek. “Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to fall in love again or anything. I don’t think I can, anymore.” A humorless laugh leaves him in a huff. “I’ve got a pretty shitty track record.” Everyone either died or left, so really what was the point?
He takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. “It’d just be nice to not be alone, I guess. But is that enough of a reason to stop waiting?” Maybe it's a rhetorical question, one that the Flood isn't sure how to word just right, but so long as the point gets across it should be enough.
His gaze remains on the crowds down below, finishing off the wing in his hand and depositing the remains in the discard plate between them, sparking some water to life to clean his hands off in and dry them, a bubble of it hovering by Melita in case she wished to wash her hands when she’s done, too. “That’s the hard part, I think.” Sunjata admits, the confession gripping his chest in a vice that makes his throat tight, that has him glaring down at the crowds below.
“I don’t know how long is enough but also enough to make it hurt less.” He wrinkles his nose, drawing silent for a few moments to chew on the inside of his cheek. “Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to fall in love again or anything. I don’t think I can, anymore.” A humorless laugh leaves him in a huff. “I’ve got a pretty shitty track record.” Everyone either died or left, so really what was the point?
He takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. “It’d just be nice to not be alone, I guess. But is that enough of a reason to stop waiting?” Maybe it's a rhetorical question, one that the Flood isn't sure how to word just right, but so long as the point gets across it should be enough.
with wings that burn and boys who fall
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.
