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
Oh, he does feel the grin pressed to his cheek. It bolsters him, makes him a bit more bold as his back arches against Frey’s chest. He wants to expand on the thought that’s crossed his mind, one of making one of the wilds a safe haven for those that are uninterested in the war, those that wish to continue life without it, a safety of sorts to be able to reproduce, to thrive, to emerge when the dust settles as something new, something better.
But the words die on his tongue, as do the way he tries to suck in more oxygen despite how everything about Frey tightens. It’s tense, it’s euphoric, all thoughts leave his mind as he stretches into the space he has now, despite feeling every inch tied up and bound. It’s a strange sensation, one that leaves him craving and wanting more. He can hear Frey’s voice like a river that runs down his spine, one that pools and swells and allows the instruction to become clear. Most of the sounds that leave the Flood are in Korofi, some of them simply don’t make any sense, but there is the few little “fucking, fuck”’s that leave his throat with each passing second.
He feels that edge erupt from him, like his soul has just been ripped from him with his release, a cry of a sound leaving him as the air comes flooding back in, as Frey departs and he’s left feeling boneless, back to the branch, his chest heaving and panting, steel eyes staring at the canopy above him, wondering why the fuck he’d spent so much time with Safrin when Frey had been here the entire time, so carefree and incredible because of it.
It takes him far longer than he’d like to admit to get his bearings, but when he does, the Flood peels himself from the branch, shifts into his macaw shift, and with a far lighter mind and heart, the Flood zips back towards his home.
- FIN <333
But the words die on his tongue, as do the way he tries to suck in more oxygen despite how everything about Frey tightens. It’s tense, it’s euphoric, all thoughts leave his mind as he stretches into the space he has now, despite feeling every inch tied up and bound. It’s a strange sensation, one that leaves him craving and wanting more. He can hear Frey’s voice like a river that runs down his spine, one that pools and swells and allows the instruction to become clear. Most of the sounds that leave the Flood are in Korofi, some of them simply don’t make any sense, but there is the few little “fucking, fuck”’s that leave his throat with each passing second.
He feels that edge erupt from him, like his soul has just been ripped from him with his release, a cry of a sound leaving him as the air comes flooding back in, as Frey departs and he’s left feeling boneless, back to the branch, his chest heaving and panting, steel eyes staring at the canopy above him, wondering why the fuck he’d spent so much time with Safrin when Frey had been here the entire time, so carefree and incredible because of it.
It takes him far longer than he’d like to admit to get his bearings, but when he does, the Flood peels himself from the branch, shifts into his macaw shift, and with a far lighter mind and heart, the Flood zips back towards his home.
- FIN <333
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.
