// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //
some have names but most do not //
While the rest of the world seems to figuratively burn, King’s End is soaked and working on taking care of the damage toward the edges, especially the Boondocks. But when it comes to the interior of the region, Mourn seems relatively unaffected if not for the damp dirt and puddles spanning around where flowers typically were blooming in full force. It’s a peaceful location, one that Sunjata’s chosen to harbor the shrine to Frey, a space where offerings were already given when people didn’t want to traverse all the way to the hills of the Barrows.
So, in an effort to try and be more social as of late (especially given the strange violet hue in the sky and the second moon), a letter is sent to Alys, asking if she’d be willing to meet him here to prepare the space for the Frey shrine. And upon hearing back, a date was set, and the Flood brings a small cart of items with his Pegasus shift to the location. Inside the wagon sits tools and bags of dirt mixed with fertilizer, and a large variety of flowers in colors that vividly distract from the typical pinks and yellows and whites of Mourn.
A jacket is shed and folded on the edge of the basket, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt, scars and tattoos on display (and the start of a tan blending into his already sunkissed skin), snorting a sigh at Petronella as she darts off into the flowers to take down a particularly large looking daisy in the distance. And he waits for his company to arrive.
So, in an effort to try and be more social as of late (especially given the strange violet hue in the sky and the second moon), a letter is sent to Alys, asking if she’d be willing to meet him here to prepare the space for the Frey shrine. And upon hearing back, a date was set, and the Flood brings a small cart of items with his Pegasus shift to the location. Inside the wagon sits tools and bags of dirt mixed with fertilizer, and a large variety of flowers in colors that vividly distract from the typical pinks and yellows and whites of Mourn.
A jacket is shed and folded on the edge of the basket, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt, scars and tattoos on display (and the start of a tan blending into his already sunkissed skin), snorting a sigh at Petronella as she darts off into the flowers to take down a particularly large looking daisy in the distance. And he waits for his company to arrive.
the flood
// if you find one, please,
let me know what piece i've lost //
let me know what piece i've lost //
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.
