SUNJATA
the flood
there was a moment, a hole opened in the sky
a chance to join that pantheon
a chance to join that pantheon
He doesn’t particularly need to hear Remi to know when the Lullaby is ready. And there’s still a part of him that’s very much Caido!Jata that imagines they can talk through the attuned bond during the ride, if only so Sunjata can get his points across. But the second Remi is prepared, Sunjata’s kicking off the shifter, pulling the bike around – off the bridge from where he’d been pushed off of it in a previous memory of a dream with Ronin, where he heads toward the lush spaces of where he’d grown up.
This is where I grew up. Remi knows he was the Arbiter’s son, knows that while his upbringing had been awful in other ways, at least Sunjata never had to worry about whether he got food or not. Even if his father resented him, his mother at least was able to counteract it and make sure he at least had enough to survive. But the homes they pass are opulent – lush green grasses, brick roads, homes far larger than anything anyone ever truly needed, servants out in the rain making sure everything was perfect.
But after they pass by his home growing up, with the barbed wire and the cameras and fencing, Sunjata turns to take a trip back toward the slums. And this is the slums. He announces once they’ve made it there – just over the ridge of homes pristine and perfect, homes were falling apart, stacked on top of one another with missing bricks, some with broken lights and people milling about without homes, huddled under the edge of whatever ledge they could find, clothes draped about them that they took off momentarily to wring out before placing it back on.
He continues to drive past, weaving in and out of other cars, passing through the length of the main avenue of the city – past the creeping patrol cars who now have lights on, sirens blaring, and a large line of enforcers, breaking windows into what appeared to be a shelter, while simultaneously breaking down and through the door. I was raised to be one of the enforcers there. And I was, for a time, until I managed to get away. Sunjata slows the bike, pulling off into the side, under a ledge of a building where they’re hidden in shadow. Beside them on a telephone pole, wanted posters sit with his face beside Lusea’s.
Underneath the poster, graffiti of the rebellion’s sigil sat, washed half away by the rain. It is difficult for me what happened in Torchline, given the fact that this was the normal way of things here. He pauses, watching as they throw people out of the building, as shouts erupt, as smoke and gas bombs are tossed within to draw out the rats. I know it doesn’t relate fully, but, these people didn’t deserve to have this happen to them. They’re stuck in the middle, already without homes, already suffering while the rest of us sat up there in our mansions. I was raised to see them as lesser, as if they were disposable. That’s exactly what these enforcers are thinking when they go in there. His head nods toward the door as more people come flooding out, as the enforcers and their glowing electric sticks use it to huddle them into the patrol cars as if they’re cattle. They believe that they are doing the right thing. And the people in there, who have no hand in this resistance at all other than whispers and rumors of something better, are punished for it. He sighs, leaning forward on the handles, arms folding across them while he watches.
When I came back from the Grounds and had heard of what happened, this is what I thought of. Because whether or not Deimos and Hotaru believed that they were right in what they were doing, it still made the people of Torchline feel unsafe. They’ve hardly had a moment of reprieve. The Trial with my father only took place halfway through Flowerbirth, if you recall. He doesn’t know if Remi had been there or not, but it had all been so fucking much. So you can think of it as an overreaction all you want, I'm sure everyone else does. But it hurts, Remi, to come back and see the region I love in a position I strove to try and change my entire life.
This is where I grew up. Remi knows he was the Arbiter’s son, knows that while his upbringing had been awful in other ways, at least Sunjata never had to worry about whether he got food or not. Even if his father resented him, his mother at least was able to counteract it and make sure he at least had enough to survive. But the homes they pass are opulent – lush green grasses, brick roads, homes far larger than anything anyone ever truly needed, servants out in the rain making sure everything was perfect.
But after they pass by his home growing up, with the barbed wire and the cameras and fencing, Sunjata turns to take a trip back toward the slums. And this is the slums. He announces once they’ve made it there – just over the ridge of homes pristine and perfect, homes were falling apart, stacked on top of one another with missing bricks, some with broken lights and people milling about without homes, huddled under the edge of whatever ledge they could find, clothes draped about them that they took off momentarily to wring out before placing it back on.
He continues to drive past, weaving in and out of other cars, passing through the length of the main avenue of the city – past the creeping patrol cars who now have lights on, sirens blaring, and a large line of enforcers, breaking windows into what appeared to be a shelter, while simultaneously breaking down and through the door. I was raised to be one of the enforcers there. And I was, for a time, until I managed to get away. Sunjata slows the bike, pulling off into the side, under a ledge of a building where they’re hidden in shadow. Beside them on a telephone pole, wanted posters sit with his face beside Lusea’s.
Underneath the poster, graffiti of the rebellion’s sigil sat, washed half away by the rain. It is difficult for me what happened in Torchline, given the fact that this was the normal way of things here. He pauses, watching as they throw people out of the building, as shouts erupt, as smoke and gas bombs are tossed within to draw out the rats. I know it doesn’t relate fully, but, these people didn’t deserve to have this happen to them. They’re stuck in the middle, already without homes, already suffering while the rest of us sat up there in our mansions. I was raised to see them as lesser, as if they were disposable. That’s exactly what these enforcers are thinking when they go in there. His head nods toward the door as more people come flooding out, as the enforcers and their glowing electric sticks use it to huddle them into the patrol cars as if they’re cattle. They believe that they are doing the right thing. And the people in there, who have no hand in this resistance at all other than whispers and rumors of something better, are punished for it. He sighs, leaning forward on the handles, arms folding across them while he watches.
When I came back from the Grounds and had heard of what happened, this is what I thought of. Because whether or not Deimos and Hotaru believed that they were right in what they were doing, it still made the people of Torchline feel unsafe. They’ve hardly had a moment of reprieve. The Trial with my father only took place halfway through Flowerbirth, if you recall. He doesn’t know if Remi had been there or not, but it had all been so fucking much. So you can think of it as an overreaction all you want, I'm sure everyone else does. But it hurts, Remi, to come back and see the region I love in a position I strove to try and change my entire life.
for all the times they never heard your battlecry
now be an angel, sing along
now be an angel, sing along
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.
