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SUNJATA
SUNJATA
He knows it bothers her, knows that it tears at her deep down, but that darkened piece of him wants her to feel it, to feel what it’s like. He pulls away, but doesn’t leave, only standing when she does, letting his haunted gaze fall on her as he picks up the box he had gotten for her and whatever else had had brought before beginning the walk home. Her voice still lingers in his ear, and he gives her a quiet nod, unable to come up with the words as though they’re blocked from him — to tell her that he’s not hungry, that she should rest, he’d figure it out from there. But instead part of the walk is quiet, awkward, and rough, and he continues to chew at his lip gently while he figures out what to say.
“It’s not you, Phoebe.” He says, an echo of his previous words, but this time with a different meaning. “It reminded me of Korofi and it… It was hard. It’s always the same thing for me, I don’t know what it is, but it is hard for me to express things through words, and for that I am sorry.” His voice is thickly accented now, as though his body and mind struggle to tell the difference between the common tongue here and Korofi — but he does his best, tries his hardest. So much so that it almost pains him to do it. But he reaches out, to touch her shoulder gently as if to show her — to prove that it’s easier for physical forms of affection than through acknowledging them through words.
“It’s not you, Phoebe.” He says, an echo of his previous words, but this time with a different meaning. “It reminded me of Korofi and it… It was hard. It’s always the same thing for me, I don’t know what it is, but it is hard for me to express things through words, and for that I am sorry.” His voice is thickly accented now, as though his body and mind struggle to tell the difference between the common tongue here and Korofi — but he does his best, tries his hardest. So much so that it almost pains him to do it. But he reaches out, to touch her shoulder gently as if to show her — to prove that it’s easier for physical forms of affection than through acknowledging them through words.
you were forged in fire
& you rose from the ashes
murder and mercy rolled into one
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.
