SUNJATA
She says nothing and it leaves him with absolutely nothing to go off of. Does he call it off, go about it like nothing had ever happened? All these people had already arrived, had already tried to talk him out of it again and again. But maybe, because of his sickness and the confusion that comes and goes with the headaches, maybe he just doesn’t care what they think anymore. Perhaps it was over from the beginning when he’d met Phoebe and started down this path — the both of them manipulating each other in the means and guise of love to get what they want out of it.
He thinks he might just bite the bullet, or let it kill him instead.
He sighs, and then Frey is there, taking Phoebe from him into their embrace, alluring eyes cast toward him and Harper, and somehow — somehow it clears it up in his mind, in strange ways as Frey had done once before. This isn’t Korofi, this isn’t a Korofi wedding where things were expected of you in arrangements and plots for political power. No, Frey’s right, it means basically nothing.
So fuck it, he decides, the worst that can happen is it doesn’t work out and they go about their separate ways saying they’d at least tried. And he could start by showing her a hint of that softness that he has kept buried deep within, regretting it the moment he lets it out.
He swallows hard, stepping toward Phoebe and Frey now, gaze averting from the god he hasn’t seen since Phoebe’s blight, and he turns his attention to his betrothed, shut down and ghostlike as he attempts to try and get her to face him just enough. He leans down toward her, calloused hands lifting to brush a piece of hair from her face, focusing on the effort she’d put into this. The feathers woven into her hair, the blue flowers just for him, and he swallows hard again.
“Frey’s right.” He rumbles to her softly. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t. But we can at least try. I will try. I’m sorry.” He tries to lift her chin to look at him. Meanwhile he focuses on the feathers and flowers in her hair, his fingers idly brushing by them all, soft and delicate. “Look around you and tell me five things you can see.” He begins, steel gaze slipping back to her hollow face, shadowed eyes, a spark of something within them that’s not as haunted, recounting the way she had helped him once before, wondering if she’ll remember it too.
He thinks he might just bite the bullet, or let it kill him instead.
He sighs, and then Frey is there, taking Phoebe from him into their embrace, alluring eyes cast toward him and Harper, and somehow — somehow it clears it up in his mind, in strange ways as Frey had done once before. This isn’t Korofi, this isn’t a Korofi wedding where things were expected of you in arrangements and plots for political power. No, Frey’s right, it means basically nothing.
So fuck it, he decides, the worst that can happen is it doesn’t work out and they go about their separate ways saying they’d at least tried. And he could start by showing her a hint of that softness that he has kept buried deep within, regretting it the moment he lets it out.
He swallows hard, stepping toward Phoebe and Frey now, gaze averting from the god he hasn’t seen since Phoebe’s blight, and he turns his attention to his betrothed, shut down and ghostlike as he attempts to try and get her to face him just enough. He leans down toward her, calloused hands lifting to brush a piece of hair from her face, focusing on the effort she’d put into this. The feathers woven into her hair, the blue flowers just for him, and he swallows hard again.
“Frey’s right.” He rumbles to her softly. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t. But we can at least try. I will try. I’m sorry.” He tries to lift her chin to look at him. Meanwhile he focuses on the feathers and flowers in her hair, his fingers idly brushing by them all, soft and delicate. “Look around you and tell me five things you can see.” He begins, steel gaze slipping back to her hollow face, shadowed eyes, a spark of something within them that’s not as haunted, recounting the way she had helped him once before, wondering if she’ll remember it too.
you made your choice.
do you regret it yet?
do you regret it yet?
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.
