SUNJATA
the flood
you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
He sees the metal bird hit the ground, too, but he doesn’t notice the shift – not when he’s trying his best not to stab his fingers into the gouge in his person that’s still bleeding, not when he’s still disoriented as fuck from whatever that was. What he does notice, though, is movement, and he thinks it might still be the bird coming in for the kill – offering up a blood soaked hand to hide his face and his eyes as if it’s a moment of complete surrender, lips parting through his panting breaths to start to say something, only to have one sound slip out immediately when Wessex’s voice is cutting him off.
The arm drops, squinting through the disorientation to hear her, to feel her hands on him as she searches for where he’s bleeding from and while he might be tall and still rather large, he’s easily moved for her to find the wound. “My back.” He murmurs, shifting his legs when her hand presses against the wound, luckily covered enough by muscle and bone to keep any internals from coming out. It has torn through a muscle, though, and that'll certainly take a while to heal without any magical intervention.
He finds himself leaning against her, though, forehead pressed against her shoulder as he tries to loosen his tension a bit, trying to figure out how they might go about tying it off. “The bird..?” He asks tentatively, as if asking if it were her, the confusion clear in his voice.
The arm drops, squinting through the disorientation to hear her, to feel her hands on him as she searches for where he’s bleeding from and while he might be tall and still rather large, he’s easily moved for her to find the wound. “My back.” He murmurs, shifting his legs when her hand presses against the wound, luckily covered enough by muscle and bone to keep any internals from coming out. It has torn through a muscle, though, and that'll certainly take a while to heal without any magical intervention.
He finds himself leaning against her, though, forehead pressed against her shoulder as he tries to loosen his tension a bit, trying to figure out how they might go about tying it off. “The bird..?” He asks tentatively, as if asking if it were her, the confusion clear in his voice.
by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
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.
