SUNJATA
Things are wrong and things have moved so quickly, Sunjata can barely try to understand what’s gone on in the last few days. Where once he had been coasting along, like he had among the flood waters back home, he felt akin to the feeling of falling in, a moment of reprieve before his head slips under. He knows it is wrong of him, but Phoebe had conceded to Lusea, had given it up.
Would he have blamed her? Done the same in her shoes?
He doesn’t know, but he does know that an apology is in order, and a thank you somewhere in between. She hadn’t been to the Clinic in some time, and since then he had taken Lusea away from it, cleared it out of his things, removed himself from it as though if she were to return she wouldn’t constantly be reminded of him. But ah, the memories were still there. Still upstairs, still on the couch, still in the kitchen, still in the shower.
He runs a hand through his hair with a quiet sigh as he approaches the Infirmary, having checked the College too to no avail. This is his last attempt at finding out where Phoebe has gone. He tries to make himself as presentable, as close to how he had looked before as possible, carefully trying to hide the variety of bruising along his neck and collarbones, the scratches along the base of his neck— but his cheek is still tinted a darker shade from Lusea’s slap, and he finds he can’t quite hide that one as well as the others.
Quietly, he steps in, awaiting an electric flame from Pim at the sight of him. “Phoebe?” He calls out, praying to these gods and the gods from home she is here.
Would he have blamed her? Done the same in her shoes?
He doesn’t know, but he does know that an apology is in order, and a thank you somewhere in between. She hadn’t been to the Clinic in some time, and since then he had taken Lusea away from it, cleared it out of his things, removed himself from it as though if she were to return she wouldn’t constantly be reminded of him. But ah, the memories were still there. Still upstairs, still on the couch, still in the kitchen, still in the shower.
He runs a hand through his hair with a quiet sigh as he approaches the Infirmary, having checked the College too to no avail. This is his last attempt at finding out where Phoebe has gone. He tries to make himself as presentable, as close to how he had looked before as possible, carefully trying to hide the variety of bruising along his neck and collarbones, the scratches along the base of his neck— but his cheek is still tinted a darker shade from Lusea’s slap, and he finds he can’t quite hide that one as well as the others.
Quietly, he steps in, awaiting an electric flame from Pim at the sight of him. “Phoebe?” He calls out, praying to these gods and the gods from home she is here.
the deeper you dig, the darker it gets
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.
