SUNJATA
the heartless
i'm nothing more than a page unwritten
on the pavement, blowing in the wind
on the pavement, blowing in the wind
He hadn’t been made aware until it was far too late to do anything about it. And still, Sunjata arrives. Blotting out the sky in the shape of a dark black dragon, he shifts from dragon to bat as he descends, taking up less of a footprint among the ashes and charred remains as he drops down closer to the ground. He spots Colt in the middle of the scene, zipping toward her and dodging out of the way of any hands that drift back and forth in search of anything to save while he can hear the others talk about plans to go and wrangle any cows they can find before they’re gone completely.
He shifts back into himself, approaching Colt slowly almost as if he isn’t sure if she’s a spooked animal that might either bite or collapse upon being completely noticed. “Colt,” he greets slowly, his accent thick and the sorrow drumming through him as he looks at her, his hand reaching out for her before it hesitates and twitches unhelpfully, still uncertain what he can do. “How can I help?” He’s careful to avoid anything but flat ground beneath his feet, unwilling to let himself be the one that helped destroy anything else that’s among the rubble.
Feathers trickle down his neck, a display of his uncertainty and quiet understanding. He knows what it’s like to lose everything – he’d done it far too many times and it isn’t at all something he’d wish on anyone – least of all her. His jaw is set tight, an inch away from grinding or chewing on the inside of his cheek til he can taste blood, pulling his gaze away from her to look at the carnage and bones left behind.
The ranch looks like a corpse – fitting, he supposes for King’s End – but the bones linger, smoke rises, and all the meat and liveliness that had made it a beacon for King’s End are gone. The memories remain, like most things do, but without the easy reminder of walking into a room that no longer exists, it’s hard to say just how long they’ll last.
Water swirls around his fingertips, waiting for anything to crop up that he can help put out, and it becomes part of his search too – looking for anything aglow and smokey that he can pinpoint some effort of helping into.
He shifts back into himself, approaching Colt slowly almost as if he isn’t sure if she’s a spooked animal that might either bite or collapse upon being completely noticed. “Colt,” he greets slowly, his accent thick and the sorrow drumming through him as he looks at her, his hand reaching out for her before it hesitates and twitches unhelpfully, still uncertain what he can do. “How can I help?” He’s careful to avoid anything but flat ground beneath his feet, unwilling to let himself be the one that helped destroy anything else that’s among the rubble.
Feathers trickle down his neck, a display of his uncertainty and quiet understanding. He knows what it’s like to lose everything – he’d done it far too many times and it isn’t at all something he’d wish on anyone – least of all her. His jaw is set tight, an inch away from grinding or chewing on the inside of his cheek til he can taste blood, pulling his gaze away from her to look at the carnage and bones left behind.
The ranch looks like a corpse – fitting, he supposes for King’s End – but the bones linger, smoke rises, and all the meat and liveliness that had made it a beacon for King’s End are gone. The memories remain, like most things do, but without the easy reminder of walking into a room that no longer exists, it’s hard to say just how long they’ll last.
Water swirls around his fingertips, waiting for anything to crop up that he can help put out, and it becomes part of his search too – looking for anything aglow and smokey that he can pinpoint some effort of helping into.
you win a lot, and you lose
just a little bit more than you gained in the end
just a little bit more than you gained in the end
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.
