SUNJATA
i found hope in a hopeless home
found my father but i lost my soul
found my father but i lost my soul
They both look like mirrors of each other, Sunjata realizes. Only Hotaru had well and truly died and come back while Sunjata had suffered a metaphorical death. The physicality of his heart is well and truly gone, though, and for that the Heartless understands why he feels next to nothing when he sees her. He knows he should, but the spaces of his heart where love had sat is an empty void of cobwebs and ash from all the cigarettes he’d told her he’d quit, picking up the habit the second something gets hard again.
“Hey.” He says quietly, the distance between them vast and large but not enough that he can’t spot the blood on her hands, the claws there – mirroring her yet again in the way he approaches with the background of scream rain and horns and wings on display, tucked in and trying to not let more of his emotions be seen. He keeps the attuned bond quiet, just in case, his own offering in his hands that he has yet to deposit.
It isn’t much, but he forces himself to step up until they’re within talking distance, but he holds off on speaking yet. Instead, he drops to a knee at the base of the Mathair, setting an array of fruits and plants that he thinks will help to nourish her roots. Less carnal, more leaning towards the fertility aspect of their shared deity. And only when he’s sure it’s spread precisely how he wants it to be, he straightens up and turns to her – his jaw set tight.
Bags sit below his eyes, too, an exhaustion that’s somehow far past bone deep creeping in. “Thanks for meeting me.. after everything.” He says quietly and unhelpfully, forcing himself to try and start the words he’d mulled over every second of every wingbeat and step it took him to get here. “I think I owe you an explanation. More than what I gave you before.”
“Hey.” He says quietly, the distance between them vast and large but not enough that he can’t spot the blood on her hands, the claws there – mirroring her yet again in the way he approaches with the background of scream rain and horns and wings on display, tucked in and trying to not let more of his emotions be seen. He keeps the attuned bond quiet, just in case, his own offering in his hands that he has yet to deposit.
It isn’t much, but he forces himself to step up until they’re within talking distance, but he holds off on speaking yet. Instead, he drops to a knee at the base of the Mathair, setting an array of fruits and plants that he thinks will help to nourish her roots. Less carnal, more leaning towards the fertility aspect of their shared deity. And only when he’s sure it’s spread precisely how he wants it to be, he straightens up and turns to her – his jaw set tight.
Bags sit below his eyes, too, an exhaustion that’s somehow far past bone deep creeping in. “Thanks for meeting me.. after everything.” He says quietly and unhelpfully, forcing himself to try and start the words he’d mulled over every second of every wingbeat and step it took him to get here. “I think I owe you an explanation. More than what I gave you before.”
i tried to trace it, i aimed to scope
been tryna kill it, but it's all i know
been tryna kill it, but it's all i know
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.
