SUNJATA
the flood
you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
Niki doesn’t meet his gaze when he peers back at him, too busy cleaning off the cloth in the bowl and Sunjata finds his attention drifting to the coffees instead, like it was an easier thing to focus on than the sudden fact he misses the warmth of the necromancer’s touch, however brief it had been.
“Yeah. Funny how that works.” He murmurs, corralling his own coffee toward him to blow on to cool down a touch more before he takes a sip about the same time that Niki does. The laughter warms him almost as much as the coffee does, finding the corner of his lips quirking up a little higher to hear the answer. “I couldn’t really remember if there was any sugar, but I knew it was black.” He says it as a deflection – that he’d rather have been wrong and have no sugar in it so Niki could add some if that’s what he preferred, but he is happy to know that the coffee is just right. “You’re welcome, though.” He tacks on in case it wasn’t obvious.
Setting the mug back down, he collects the rag and water again, working on the arm that harbors the tattoos – left handed as he is, he works it up and down the navy tattoos of waves and swirls to try and swipe off more of the black. His skin beneath where the water drips temporarily swirls further, like the tattoo on his skin is alive only briefly – but his fingertips are tainted black with his passive magic from the liquid regardless, not washing away until he’s fully dry.
“Yeah. Funny how that works.” He murmurs, corralling his own coffee toward him to blow on to cool down a touch more before he takes a sip about the same time that Niki does. The laughter warms him almost as much as the coffee does, finding the corner of his lips quirking up a little higher to hear the answer. “I couldn’t really remember if there was any sugar, but I knew it was black.” He says it as a deflection – that he’d rather have been wrong and have no sugar in it so Niki could add some if that’s what he preferred, but he is happy to know that the coffee is just right. “You’re welcome, though.” He tacks on in case it wasn’t obvious.
Setting the mug back down, he collects the rag and water again, working on the arm that harbors the tattoos – left handed as he is, he works it up and down the navy tattoos of waves and swirls to try and swipe off more of the black. His skin beneath where the water drips temporarily swirls further, like the tattoo on his skin is alive only briefly – but his fingertips are tainted black with his passive magic from the liquid regardless, not washing away until he’s fully dry.
by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
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.
