// seems like the whole damn world went and lost its mind & all my childhood heroes
have fallen off or died. fake tears, real living, fake tears, but the alcohol never lies //
have fallen off or died. fake tears, real living, fake tears, but the alcohol never lies //
“It means shark.” He supplies easily. “When she hatched out of her egg, she immediately bit me.” This causes another half smile to form on his face, tugging up the corner that’s left unmarred before it falters again as he focuses on the sea and the dying wind, on the words that leave her lips and the question and joke he replies with.
“Maeve.” He finishes his original statement with her offered name, his voice a low rumble, a whisper above the crashing waves. He nods with a hint of understanding toward her, feeling exactly the same – having to talk with and deal with people that would dive too deep into himself, ones that would cause him to lash out at them simply because he doesn’t want to talk about what happened not too long ago, leaving him washed up in the caverns of Rae’s Fingers.
But he steps toward Maeve and Haai now, the griffin puffing a bit of smoke into the air at her happiness, a large wing flattening against the sand. Sunjata crouches nearby the two of them, his bruised hand outstretched to run his fingers along the inside of the griffin’s wing. “It’s easy to feel lost in a place like this.” He adds, gently, unsure why he’s acting this way when typically he could either charm someone into leaving him alone or lash out. For now? Perhaps it’s the weather that dampens everything about him, leaves him a shell of it, quiet and contemplative. “But at least there’s always some sort of adventure.” He withdraws his hand from Haai to rub at the side of his neck, over a scar and a compass tattoo who’s northern point aims straight at her as he lifts his steel gaze back to Maeve. "Though I'd suggest picking the adventure wisely." Another edge of attempted humor, the ghosting lift of the unscarred side of his lips again in a brief smile.
“Maeve.” He finishes his original statement with her offered name, his voice a low rumble, a whisper above the crashing waves. He nods with a hint of understanding toward her, feeling exactly the same – having to talk with and deal with people that would dive too deep into himself, ones that would cause him to lash out at them simply because he doesn’t want to talk about what happened not too long ago, leaving him washed up in the caverns of Rae’s Fingers.
But he steps toward Maeve and Haai now, the griffin puffing a bit of smoke into the air at her happiness, a large wing flattening against the sand. Sunjata crouches nearby the two of them, his bruised hand outstretched to run his fingers along the inside of the griffin’s wing. “It’s easy to feel lost in a place like this.” He adds, gently, unsure why he’s acting this way when typically he could either charm someone into leaving him alone or lash out. For now? Perhaps it’s the weather that dampens everything about him, leaves him a shell of it, quiet and contemplative. “But at least there’s always some sort of adventure.” He withdraws his hand from Haai to rub at the side of his neck, over a scar and a compass tattoo who’s northern point aims straight at her as he lifts his steel gaze back to Maeve. "Though I'd suggest picking the adventure wisely." Another edge of attempted humor, the ghosting lift of the unscarred side of his lips again in a brief smile.
some princes don't become kings
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.
