// the edge is getting closer, it's a long spiral down. it's so fun to fly 'til you hit the ground
i think i'm getting too close, i think i'm getting too close //
i think i'm getting too close, i think i'm getting too close //
Ronin’s hand remains at his shoulder and Sunjata can’t help the remaining lingering terror that he finds there. Because just before, just before he had embraced the Flood. The Star hadn’t let go. The Lullaby had played. And he still hasn’t processed it, he’s trying to make his way through the muddy waters, trying to scrounge it out. And when Ronin says that he didn’t believe him when he should have, Sunjata’s gaze shudders, darkens, he becomes weak again and again.
Frankly, it pisses him off. He’d just died. Dream or not, it had felt so incredibly real. And somehow? Somehow it was worse than when he’d tried to follow Lusea to the grave, to the scar that’s been on his neck for seven years. It’s worse, because Sunjata had wanted to go. There was no acceptance with this aside from that of which he didn’t think he’d be able to get out of it. But he had, somehow, Remi had figured it out.
“Why?” He says simply, bluntly, coldly. Hands shifting to the claws of the dragon that pierce the wood of the table. He still doesn’t look at Ronin, but where Ronin’s hand sits on his shoulders, armor plates spiral out, covering his neck and chest, the underside of his chin, all the way down. Those wings spread from his back, the one still broken, still limp, drooped and sweeping across the floor. “What did I ever do, Ronin, that would make you both think that I did this?” His words leave him in his despair and fear. “That’s not me. That’s not me. I have spent years trying to prove it. And it doesn't fucking matter, does it?”
Frankly, it pisses him off. He’d just died. Dream or not, it had felt so incredibly real. And somehow? Somehow it was worse than when he’d tried to follow Lusea to the grave, to the scar that’s been on his neck for seven years. It’s worse, because Sunjata had wanted to go. There was no acceptance with this aside from that of which he didn’t think he’d be able to get out of it. But he had, somehow, Remi had figured it out.
“Why?” He says simply, bluntly, coldly. Hands shifting to the claws of the dragon that pierce the wood of the table. He still doesn’t look at Ronin, but where Ronin’s hand sits on his shoulders, armor plates spiral out, covering his neck and chest, the underside of his chin, all the way down. Those wings spread from his back, the one still broken, still limp, drooped and sweeping across the floor. “What did I ever do, Ronin, that would make you both think that I did this?” His words leave him in his despair and fear. “That’s not me. That’s not me. I have spent years trying to prove it. And it doesn't fucking matter, does it?”
it's hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands
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.
