SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself
saving everybody else to save yourself
He’s promised it would be a short trip. One out to the Climb, having taken the portal to Torchline and flown the rest of the way – it was impossible to take the tunnels from Halo this time of year and truthfully? If he could avoid any instance of snow, he’s more than willing to go. So he takes his little jars and bundles, clutching them in the talons of his dragon shift, and slips away toward Frey’s Breath with the intention of retrieving water.
It's difficult, of course, much of the way is still underground, through a wonky cave system that Sunjata hasn’t had to navigate all that much. But he gets started, shifting back into himself and carrying the bag of supplies along his shoulder, still half man half dragon if only to help shield his skin from any wayward lava spouts from heading down the wrong tunnel.
“Ah,” he finally says once he’s breached the tunnel system and sees the heat rising from the water within, “there you are.” It’s to no one, of course. Once upon a time a griffin would have accompanied him, but that time had long since passed – even if he still feels the hole she left in his soul each and every day from her passing.
Horned and winged, the Flood steps through the rolling mist toward the bank of the hot springs, setting his bag on the damp side and crouching, wings flaring to keep from dragging too much as he lowers himself toward the bag to grab yet another one of his many jars for collection.
It's difficult, of course, much of the way is still underground, through a wonky cave system that Sunjata hasn’t had to navigate all that much. But he gets started, shifting back into himself and carrying the bag of supplies along his shoulder, still half man half dragon if only to help shield his skin from any wayward lava spouts from heading down the wrong tunnel.
“Ah,” he finally says once he’s breached the tunnel system and sees the heat rising from the water within, “there you are.” It’s to no one, of course. Once upon a time a griffin would have accompanied him, but that time had long since passed – even if he still feels the hole she left in his soul each and every day from her passing.
Horned and winged, the Flood steps through the rolling mist toward the bank of the hot springs, setting his bag on the damp side and crouching, wings flaring to keep from dragging too much as he lowers himself toward the bag to grab yet another one of his many jars for collection.
and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell
that's the story to tell
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.
