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
There is sense to it, though it isn’t the first time he’s heard his word doesn’t mean anything – even if he, too, can’t recall promising it. Had gone through all the steps to obtain it only for something else to take priority. And now they’re standing in the corpse of her home, with the charred black spikes of foundational, load bearing beams staring back in a smoke filled mockery.
“I did get it. I just couldn’t give it to you yet.” If she’s stuck on the fences, he’ll give her an explanation. “I had to use it in the Barrows because of enenra threats.” He’s not sure if it’s a good example of prioritizing – but given that the Heartless has just fully witnessed and participated in a banshee fight, the idea of taking on an enenra is not one that he wants to do anytime soon. “I should’ve told you, I just thought I’d have enough time to organize another trade.” His jaw continues to tense.
Maybe he could force himself to hold her. To tell her it would all be okay and that life would find a way in spite of the tragedies. But she’s wrapped up in barbed wire and Sunjata’s not sure he’s got enough skin left to withstand getting caught in her thorns. The scar tissue keeps him together as much as it hides the fragility beneath, the Frankenstein’s creature made from all the pieces he thinks everyone wants to see.
He’s been trying. He’s been better. He wasn’t banned from Halo anymore as far as he could tell. He wanted to prove himself so much he accidentally went and got infected by Dahlia when all he’d wanted to do was help.
But that doesn’t matter. None of it does. And Colt just keeps prodding and tearing through the fragile flesh in a man who hasn’t slept in so long now that the mask he keeps in place is gone. He can taste blood when he takes his deep breath – not leaving yet, not willing to let her have the last word when it was nothing more than a dagger aimed at his back.
His wings ruffle again, the sound of leather against leather as he tears his gaze from the horizon where her hands are spreading out further away, sure he could catch up at some point shortly. It’s enough for him to turn back to her, to march the step or two it takes for him to get back to her. “You want more proof, then?” He asks her, surprisingly calm but the storm flares under his skin. “I haven’t tackled the fires yet because it isn’t usually this bad. You should know that as much as I do.” If she wants to brandish a knife to this fight, then he might as well play the game if he’s not going to roll over. “But I did ask Rae to help us make a healing river, because whether you believe it or not, I do care about my region.” And even if he’d called down Rae sooner to battle some attempt at the fire season here, it wasn’t super likely they’d finish it in time to prevent this.
He sighs sharply, only to take a slow inhale to steady himself. “Look, I’m sorry this happened Colt, but sometimes there’s nothing you or anyone could’ve done. Sometimes the worst just happens whether you want it to or not.” That's been his experience his entire life.
“I did get it. I just couldn’t give it to you yet.” If she’s stuck on the fences, he’ll give her an explanation. “I had to use it in the Barrows because of enenra threats.” He’s not sure if it’s a good example of prioritizing – but given that the Heartless has just fully witnessed and participated in a banshee fight, the idea of taking on an enenra is not one that he wants to do anytime soon. “I should’ve told you, I just thought I’d have enough time to organize another trade.” His jaw continues to tense.
Maybe he could force himself to hold her. To tell her it would all be okay and that life would find a way in spite of the tragedies. But she’s wrapped up in barbed wire and Sunjata’s not sure he’s got enough skin left to withstand getting caught in her thorns. The scar tissue keeps him together as much as it hides the fragility beneath, the Frankenstein’s creature made from all the pieces he thinks everyone wants to see.
He’s been trying. He’s been better. He wasn’t banned from Halo anymore as far as he could tell. He wanted to prove himself so much he accidentally went and got infected by Dahlia when all he’d wanted to do was help.
But that doesn’t matter. None of it does. And Colt just keeps prodding and tearing through the fragile flesh in a man who hasn’t slept in so long now that the mask he keeps in place is gone. He can taste blood when he takes his deep breath – not leaving yet, not willing to let her have the last word when it was nothing more than a dagger aimed at his back.
His wings ruffle again, the sound of leather against leather as he tears his gaze from the horizon where her hands are spreading out further away, sure he could catch up at some point shortly. It’s enough for him to turn back to her, to march the step or two it takes for him to get back to her. “You want more proof, then?” He asks her, surprisingly calm but the storm flares under his skin. “I haven’t tackled the fires yet because it isn’t usually this bad. You should know that as much as I do.” If she wants to brandish a knife to this fight, then he might as well play the game if he’s not going to roll over. “But I did ask Rae to help us make a healing river, because whether you believe it or not, I do care about my region.” And even if he’d called down Rae sooner to battle some attempt at the fire season here, it wasn’t super likely they’d finish it in time to prevent this.
He sighs sharply, only to take a slow inhale to steady himself. “Look, I’m sorry this happened Colt, but sometimes there’s nothing you or anyone could’ve done. Sometimes the worst just happens whether you want it to or not.” That's been his experience his entire life.
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.
