SUNJATA
the flood
i'm nothing more than a page unwritten
on the pavement, blowing in the wind
on the pavement, blowing in the wind
That’s the age old question, isn’t it? What do they do now?
His own internal question is whether or not to drown himself here, but there’s a witness and gods if he doesn’t already know how much Hotaru is suffering. He can’t do that to her, he can’t add onto it. He already has in the past.
He’s stuck, the waves lapping against his calves, each one with grappling tendrils that want to drag him deeper and deeper as he tries to refrain from flinching from it.
The muscles feather in his jaw as he sighs out a slow breath, his throat feeling as though it’s on fire though he can’t remember why. He turns from the cold dark embrace of the ocean and steps back toward Hotaru, eyes red rimmed and puffy, frown lines forever permanently scarred into his face these days as he sinks down into the water beside her without a huge splash – his magic making sure not to douse her.
His knees rise, arms wrapping around them as a sea salt wet hand rises to rub at his face. “We can’t keep doing this.” He manages through a hoarse, unused voice (aside from the heartbreak that had destroyed it recently.) “I can’t. I…” That hand that rubs at his face shifts to cover his eyes and nose now, as if he applies enough pressure he can keep everything bottled up inside.
His own internal question is whether or not to drown himself here, but there’s a witness and gods if he doesn’t already know how much Hotaru is suffering. He can’t do that to her, he can’t add onto it. He already has in the past.
He’s stuck, the waves lapping against his calves, each one with grappling tendrils that want to drag him deeper and deeper as he tries to refrain from flinching from it.
The muscles feather in his jaw as he sighs out a slow breath, his throat feeling as though it’s on fire though he can’t remember why. He turns from the cold dark embrace of the ocean and steps back toward Hotaru, eyes red rimmed and puffy, frown lines forever permanently scarred into his face these days as he sinks down into the water beside her without a huge splash – his magic making sure not to douse her.
His knees rise, arms wrapping around them as a sea salt wet hand rises to rub at his face. “We can’t keep doing this.” He manages through a hoarse, unused voice (aside from the heartbreak that had destroyed it recently.) “I can’t. I…” That hand that rubs at his face shifts to cover his eyes and nose now, as if he applies enough pressure he can keep everything bottled up inside.
you win a lot, and you lose
just a little bit more than you gained in the end
just a little bit more than you gained in the end
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.
