SUNJATA
i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring
and meeting all my vices in the ring
There’s pride that blooms along his face, pride that blossoms in his chest and if she were attuned she’d likely feel it. But she isn’t, and so he gathers everything he wishes to share with her, to have her feel and understand, and tries to put them in the praise and adjustments made for their little dagger spar. She’s silent after his gentle coaxing, following suit and taking a look at her feet as she slips away from his dagger before it has a moment to slip against cloth.
She repositions, and goes on quite the offense, quickly moving to the left, an attempt to the right, before centering and lunching toward his hip where he follows through with the movements in an attempt to avoid. He doesn’t make it out of her way in time and the blade slices through the shirt, a papercut wound to his hip that has a grin spreading across his face. “Very nice Melita.” He rumbles, all pride and praise in his accented voice.
Of course, now that she’s drawn first blood, he goes a bit more intense with his own attacks – ignoring the more annoying version of a cut than a stab, despite the small bead of blood that dots his skin, and moves in that very same triangle shaped position, one hand lowered, the other pulled back and a bit higher. And then he’s moving, both daggers pinpointing her in a way that may box her in, the one from the left attempting to corral her to the right, while the furthest dagger away attempts to go for her side.
Should he manage to get close enough to her, he’s careful enough to stop before the blade reaches skin – just in case. He’s not here to harm her, but he does want her to learn to evade and go back on the offense.
She repositions, and goes on quite the offense, quickly moving to the left, an attempt to the right, before centering and lunching toward his hip where he follows through with the movements in an attempt to avoid. He doesn’t make it out of her way in time and the blade slices through the shirt, a papercut wound to his hip that has a grin spreading across his face. “Very nice Melita.” He rumbles, all pride and praise in his accented voice.
Of course, now that she’s drawn first blood, he goes a bit more intense with his own attacks – ignoring the more annoying version of a cut than a stab, despite the small bead of blood that dots his skin, and moves in that very same triangle shaped position, one hand lowered, the other pulled back and a bit higher. And then he’s moving, both daggers pinpointing her in a way that may box her in, the one from the left attempting to corral her to the right, while the furthest dagger away attempts to go for her side.
Should he manage to get close enough to her, he’s careful enough to stop before the blade reaches skin – just in case. He’s not here to harm her, but he does want her to learn to evade and go back on the offense.
so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me
there ain't a casket strong enough for me
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.
