// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
“Hey,” it’s unceremonious. There’s no prayer, not beyond the ones he’s sure Frey’s heard in the interim on the way up here. There’s the offering, laid out with ripe peaches and blackberries (the blackberries are his favorites, thinking Frey might appreciate some themself.) But as he sits in front of the shrine, legs crossed before him with the dying sun hidden behind the fire of the shrine’s light, his fingers trace over the face of a wooden box, the contents of which probably were better suited for Ludo, though Sunjata has never once had an inclination to meet it.
Instead, he sits here at the shrine — usually arriving and leaving offerings without purpose but to simply be. Melita had told him to try and take some time for himself, and while it’s the last thing he feels like he should do, he winds up here anyway. Though this time is different, because rather than come and indulge in the warmth the shrine often had to offer (or the clinking bells of the wind chime or the frogs that seem to take an interest in the water display), Sunjata hasn’t left yet.
In fact, the Heartless has hunkered down. Maybe for the night, who knows? It’s been forever since he’s gotten any good sleep. Bags hang from his eyes as he tries to figure out where to start — but is there even a good spot to begin? “Am I cursed?” He starts off, squinting at the flame in the light before he shakes his head, huffs a humorless laugh, and sets the box down to reach into his jeans pocket to pull out the metal case of cigarettes — a bad habit brought back again. Though it wasn’t like it’d kill him.
The match is struck, the cherry glows and brightens his face. “Don’t answer that.” He says about the cursed comment. “I think that maybe I thought it’d be different this time, but… Maybe I should.. I dunno, embrace my biggest fear?” His chin drops, ash fluttering from the tip of the cigarette as he holds it between two fingers, a cloudy exhale leaving him in a sigh. “I don’t want to be alone. And I thought maybe this would solve that because it meant I couldn’t fuck it up again. But it feels like I did.” Even though he’d had zero control over it — hadn’t even had it in his possession. “Maybe I should’ve come to you and asked more questions. Maybe I shouldn’t have reacted how I did.” So many maybe’s, so many what if I’d done things differently? All things Sunjata wouldn’t even begin to imagine the answer to.
Instead, he drags another deep lungful of breath, tries to relax for how candid he’s been to his god for the first time in what felt like ages, tattooed shoulders loosening as his gaze lifts up back to the flame and the windchimes, the steel of his eyes a heavy storm cloud for a moniker that no longer fit. A triangle trying to cosplay as a square when it never really had the full piece.
“Do I fix it, Frey? Or am I better off without it?” The eventual prayer does come, even if half of the cigarette is long gone. And with it, the box lid is flipped open with the withered heart within.
Sunjata for Sex Frey!
Demigods will automatically receive an answer from their herald at a shrine with a 1% chance of speaking with a Big God. Demigods made by Big Gods may pray to them 1x per year with guaranteed success. Include this at the bottom of all shrine posts.
Instead, he sits here at the shrine — usually arriving and leaving offerings without purpose but to simply be. Melita had told him to try and take some time for himself, and while it’s the last thing he feels like he should do, he winds up here anyway. Though this time is different, because rather than come and indulge in the warmth the shrine often had to offer (or the clinking bells of the wind chime or the frogs that seem to take an interest in the water display), Sunjata hasn’t left yet.
In fact, the Heartless has hunkered down. Maybe for the night, who knows? It’s been forever since he’s gotten any good sleep. Bags hang from his eyes as he tries to figure out where to start — but is there even a good spot to begin? “Am I cursed?” He starts off, squinting at the flame in the light before he shakes his head, huffs a humorless laugh, and sets the box down to reach into his jeans pocket to pull out the metal case of cigarettes — a bad habit brought back again. Though it wasn’t like it’d kill him.
The match is struck, the cherry glows and brightens his face. “Don’t answer that.” He says about the cursed comment. “I think that maybe I thought it’d be different this time, but… Maybe I should.. I dunno, embrace my biggest fear?” His chin drops, ash fluttering from the tip of the cigarette as he holds it between two fingers, a cloudy exhale leaving him in a sigh. “I don’t want to be alone. And I thought maybe this would solve that because it meant I couldn’t fuck it up again. But it feels like I did.” Even though he’d had zero control over it — hadn’t even had it in his possession. “Maybe I should’ve come to you and asked more questions. Maybe I shouldn’t have reacted how I did.” So many maybe’s, so many what if I’d done things differently? All things Sunjata wouldn’t even begin to imagine the answer to.
Instead, he drags another deep lungful of breath, tries to relax for how candid he’s been to his god for the first time in what felt like ages, tattooed shoulders loosening as his gaze lifts up back to the flame and the windchimes, the steel of his eyes a heavy storm cloud for a moniker that no longer fit. A triangle trying to cosplay as a square when it never really had the full piece.
“Do I fix it, Frey? Or am I better off without it?” The eventual prayer does come, even if half of the cigarette is long gone. And with it, the box lid is flipped open with the withered heart within.
Sunjata for Sex Frey!
Demigods will automatically receive an answer from their herald at a shrine with a 1% chance of speaking with a Big God. Demigods made by Big Gods may pray to them 1x per year with guaranteed success. Include this at the bottom of all shrine posts.
i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?
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.
