SuNJATA
the flood
Ah but he had tried, he had in the few weeks following the wedding. He might have been cold, but he had been there – had slept in the same bed, had come home every night, tried as hard as he could to stop from the accidental flirtations. He had tried. But he was tired of it. All he does is remain in her space, gaze focused up on her from where he kneels on the floor, tired and exhausted and sick and done with all of it.
A bit drunk too, to be honest.
And she continues her shouting match, breaking and wearing him down as he knows that she knows works. Mean because of titles, and names, and rings, not seeing anything good. And then? Then she actually does smack him and he pulls away from her space. It wasn’t hard, but it still stung a bit, and he actually rolls his eyes to her. He wonders if she recalls the bite mark she’d given him on his shoulder or the time she’d smacked him hard across the face during the blight. He takes a moment to avoid her reach, feeling his cheek redden beneath the smack he’d been given, to take a slight advantage of her drunken state, to surge toward her, trying to get her to lie down on the bed, prepared to hold her down until she fell asleep. His touch is still light, but there’s some of that trained soldier in him that seeps through in the way that he presses her onto the bed.
“Go to sleep.” He growls to her then, searching her drunken gaze, keeping her arms pinned from hitting him again, the movement causing his ring to slip around his finger ever so slightly, but he's too drunk too notice, to annoyed and frustrated to care.
A bit drunk too, to be honest.
And she continues her shouting match, breaking and wearing him down as he knows that she knows works. Mean because of titles, and names, and rings, not seeing anything good. And then? Then she actually does smack him and he pulls away from her space. It wasn’t hard, but it still stung a bit, and he actually rolls his eyes to her. He wonders if she recalls the bite mark she’d given him on his shoulder or the time she’d smacked him hard across the face during the blight. He takes a moment to avoid her reach, feeling his cheek redden beneath the smack he’d been given, to take a slight advantage of her drunken state, to surge toward her, trying to get her to lie down on the bed, prepared to hold her down until she fell asleep. His touch is still light, but there’s some of that trained soldier in him that seeps through in the way that he presses her onto the bed.
“Go to sleep.” He growls to her then, searching her drunken gaze, keeping her arms pinned from hitting him again, the movement causing his ring to slip around his finger ever so slightly, but he's too drunk too notice, to annoyed and frustrated to care.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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.
