// a reminder, ready when you find her, i repress the iridescence of a fire
won't you mind him, steady when you find him, i confess the incandescence of a dyin' light //
won't you mind him, steady when you find him, i confess the incandescence of a dyin' light //
“You are correct.” He is the devil. He is the sea. He is horns and wings and despair.
But he’s a product made, a product of his father’s iron fist, a product of his mother’s empathy and the urge to run from those responsibilities and try to change the outcome.
If that made him a devil, so be it.
Instead, he shrugs his shoulders in Amun’s grip at the mention of a meteorite. Anything is plausible, he supposes. But as the potter begins to whisper, Sunjata’s eyes narrow slightly. “If I am the predator, then what does that make you?” Comes the hushed whisper back, the sound gravelly and rough, a lover’s caress as his claws dig in.
His shirt tears under Amun’s claws, and Sunjata hears the whine for what it is. “What do you plan to fill me with?” He asks, craning his head closer, tattooed skin rippling with the movement before one clawed hand leaves Amun’s shoulder, to reach for the Ascended’s jaw, to try and turn his head to the ocean that surrounds them.
“If you’re thirsty, drink.” He nods his head to the waves that crash along the beach on the side of them.
But he’s a product made, a product of his father’s iron fist, a product of his mother’s empathy and the urge to run from those responsibilities and try to change the outcome.
If that made him a devil, so be it.
Instead, he shrugs his shoulders in Amun’s grip at the mention of a meteorite. Anything is plausible, he supposes. But as the potter begins to whisper, Sunjata’s eyes narrow slightly. “If I am the predator, then what does that make you?” Comes the hushed whisper back, the sound gravelly and rough, a lover’s caress as his claws dig in.
His shirt tears under Amun’s claws, and Sunjata hears the whine for what it is. “What do you plan to fill me with?” He asks, craning his head closer, tattooed skin rippling with the movement before one clawed hand leaves Amun’s shoulder, to reach for the Ascended’s jaw, to try and turn his head to the ocean that surrounds them.
“If you’re thirsty, drink.” He nods his head to the waves that crash along the beach on the side of them.
SUNJATA
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.
