SUNJATA
“Am I?” He begins to say as she tells him that he’s the one that determines his fate. Because as it stands right now, everyone’s had a hand in it, everyone’s forced him one way or another. And the only time he never felt as though he had choices and decisions to make that went against himself was when he was with her. However open or hidden it had been, it had always been free, as though she helped preen the wings that helped him soar, the wings that were his first tattoos, the wings that had become real with the help of the herald to the god of life.
And here he is, causing more problems than it originally could be. Never the right time, never the right moment – too complicated or too confused on destroying what bit of a round two of his life he’d gotten. But he listens to her, watches the stance of her arms folding across her chest as though she’s shutting him out. Her words are barbs, daggers that he can feel sink into him with every breath he takes, pointed tips shooting and piercing deeper until he’s unsure if he can breathe anymore.
Especially when she compares him to Them. Thranduil. Ashamin. His lip feathers slightly as he shakes his head. “I would like to think that you know me better than that.” Accent thick, he lets his steel meet her duo toned gaze, muscle clenching in his jaw. “I would never do to you what Thranduil did, what Ashamin did. I’d always find my way back, never blame it on you.” He tries to explain, feeling as though it might fall on deaf ears. “But there’s never been a game with you. It was decided when it started, when the possibility that Lusea could walk through that door – that things would change. And she didn’t, and I clung to you Hotaru, because you know me. You helped me. You’ve done so much for me that I don’t deserve. That’s what I’m trying to get at.” He shakes his head once more, backing up somewhat away from the bar to put some distance between them.
But his gaze tries to seek out her own, tries to find that common ground of nights sitting by the fire, drinking whiskey among quiet conversations, her in his lap and his arms wrapped tightly around hers until he can’t stay awake anymore. Of the electricity she could course through his veins in both a confirmation and acceptance of him and not what he could be or become. A shiver runs down his spine.
And all the words he wants to say crash upon him like a wave, breaking and soaking him through when he notices that he’s fucking scared. He doesn’t think he’s been this scared since Lusea had disappeared again. Not since she’d died the first time. Not since he’d watched those he cares about perish in such terrible ways, so many times once before. “Move on, Ru. You deserve so much more than someone like me.” He finally says, voice rough and hoarse and shuddering, gaze flickering.
And here he is, causing more problems than it originally could be. Never the right time, never the right moment – too complicated or too confused on destroying what bit of a round two of his life he’d gotten. But he listens to her, watches the stance of her arms folding across her chest as though she’s shutting him out. Her words are barbs, daggers that he can feel sink into him with every breath he takes, pointed tips shooting and piercing deeper until he’s unsure if he can breathe anymore.
Especially when she compares him to Them. Thranduil. Ashamin. His lip feathers slightly as he shakes his head. “I would like to think that you know me better than that.” Accent thick, he lets his steel meet her duo toned gaze, muscle clenching in his jaw. “I would never do to you what Thranduil did, what Ashamin did. I’d always find my way back, never blame it on you.” He tries to explain, feeling as though it might fall on deaf ears. “But there’s never been a game with you. It was decided when it started, when the possibility that Lusea could walk through that door – that things would change. And she didn’t, and I clung to you Hotaru, because you know me. You helped me. You’ve done so much for me that I don’t deserve. That’s what I’m trying to get at.” He shakes his head once more, backing up somewhat away from the bar to put some distance between them.
But his gaze tries to seek out her own, tries to find that common ground of nights sitting by the fire, drinking whiskey among quiet conversations, her in his lap and his arms wrapped tightly around hers until he can’t stay awake anymore. Of the electricity she could course through his veins in both a confirmation and acceptance of him and not what he could be or become. A shiver runs down his spine.
And all the words he wants to say crash upon him like a wave, breaking and soaking him through when he notices that he’s fucking scared. He doesn’t think he’s been this scared since Lusea had disappeared again. Not since she’d died the first time. Not since he’d watched those he cares about perish in such terrible ways, so many times once before. “Move on, Ru. You deserve so much more than someone like me.” He finally says, voice rough and hoarse and shuddering, gaze flickering.
i no longer know if i wish to drown myself
in love, vodka, or the sea
in love, vodka, or the sea
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.
