// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //
The pregnancy is something Sunjata wasn’t aware of, and it only tacks onto his senses of betrayal and upset. But his gaze tears from her quickly in response to the readjustment from Nate, clinging to the sharp pieces of anger that feel like pinpricks after your arm has fallen asleep and it’s starting to wake up. There’s content in it, in that both of them feel the same, but his gaze only shifts because of the way Nate seems to move from standing beside him, shoulder to shoulder, to step ahead of him.
Sunjata doesn’t move, half protected by Nate – though whether it’s due to the Attuned’s feelings or the fear of what might happen, Sunjata isn’t sure. All he knows is he can’t dare to get close yet – he couldn’t make himself if he wanted to, the hard lines of his pain are swallowed largely behind a mask – a mask that Hotaru would likely be able to see the cracks in if she looked hard enough.
He supposes it’s a good thing they can barely look at one another.
Nate’s soft voice rises, something in him shifting in confusion, wondering how the voice could’ve been so soft when the sensation he feels burning the bond between them was so full of hurt. But he doesn’t ask, instead, letting his gaze flicker across Hotaru once more as she offers her own quiet answer. “Good.” Sunjata says instead of ‘oh, not this time?’ or ‘can we trust your word after everything?’ But there’s time. Time to ask those questions.
So he turns, sharply on his heel, gaze finding Pemota and clinging to the starwhal’s starlight as if it might soothe his jagged pieces. And he begins to guide them – toward the newly renovated jail, because he’s sure as hell not bringing them home where Kamaria is. He can’t bring her to the Slagveld or the Wren Society – both of them still broken and falling apart in places, and despite what Sunjata thinks of Hotaru and how deep the sense of betrayal hits him, he’s always known deep down that a child was innocent of their parent’s crimes.
It’s to the jail he heads, luckily not a long walk from the Port, but long enough to walk past the closed up Slagveld, burned and blackened in the light of dawn. Long enough to walk past the Wren Society in a similar state, with broken windows jagged and sharp points of the glass sitting in their frames.
They make it, Sunjata holding the door open for her and Nate to enter as well as Pemota if she wished to – Haai finally returning to his side to slip in along with them, and Sunjata nods to one of the rooms with a chair (an interview room, as much as one in Caido could be), and gestures for her to sit, to make herself comfortable. Something tells him they’ll be here a while.
Sunjata doesn’t move, half protected by Nate – though whether it’s due to the Attuned’s feelings or the fear of what might happen, Sunjata isn’t sure. All he knows is he can’t dare to get close yet – he couldn’t make himself if he wanted to, the hard lines of his pain are swallowed largely behind a mask – a mask that Hotaru would likely be able to see the cracks in if she looked hard enough.
He supposes it’s a good thing they can barely look at one another.
Nate’s soft voice rises, something in him shifting in confusion, wondering how the voice could’ve been so soft when the sensation he feels burning the bond between them was so full of hurt. But he doesn’t ask, instead, letting his gaze flicker across Hotaru once more as she offers her own quiet answer. “Good.” Sunjata says instead of ‘oh, not this time?’ or ‘can we trust your word after everything?’ But there’s time. Time to ask those questions.
So he turns, sharply on his heel, gaze finding Pemota and clinging to the starwhal’s starlight as if it might soothe his jagged pieces. And he begins to guide them – toward the newly renovated jail, because he’s sure as hell not bringing them home where Kamaria is. He can’t bring her to the Slagveld or the Wren Society – both of them still broken and falling apart in places, and despite what Sunjata thinks of Hotaru and how deep the sense of betrayal hits him, he’s always known deep down that a child was innocent of their parent’s crimes.
It’s to the jail he heads, luckily not a long walk from the Port, but long enough to walk past the closed up Slagveld, burned and blackened in the light of dawn. Long enough to walk past the Wren Society in a similar state, with broken windows jagged and sharp points of the glass sitting in their frames.
They make it, Sunjata holding the door open for her and Nate to enter as well as Pemota if she wished to – Haai finally returning to his side to slip in along with them, and Sunjata nods to one of the rooms with a chair (an interview room, as much as one in Caido could be), and gestures for her to sit, to make herself comfortable. Something tells him they’ll be here a while.
// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //
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.
