// ships are launching from my chest
some have names but most do not //
some have names but most do not //
The question isn’t one he expects to hear, evident in how the pinch in his brow grows deeper, watching her for a moment before he looks out and around, gaze drifting from the stones to the warring waves in the background, listening to the moving of people and the calls of instruction over the faint wind. And eventually, his attention rotates back toward her, especially when she meets his own gaze, something raw and open and broken in it that pangs in a space Sunjata had been in not that long ago.
“In my experience, it’s more of a… Need. A requirement. There’s no enjoyment, but there also isn’t no enjoyment. It just simply is.” He pauses, falling back into the character trait of not being able to use words well. So he works his jaw slightly and regards her openness, mulling over his words until it can make sense. “It’s purely survival, nothing more and nothing less. Some of my shifts enjoy the aspect of hunting, though, if it helps. The stalking through grass or circling from above just waiting for the right time. But ultimately, the act of it is just transferring it. You sacrifice them so you can live. Anything after that is just... human.” He doesn’t know if it helps, but he does reach up to scratch at Petronella absentmindedly, reading her face and offering his own relatively open, freckles lining his face alongside the pale scar that puckers along his cheek and the one that bisects his eyebrow.
“I survived a year after the war eating only when my shifts forced me to. I can’t begin to understand what the bloodlust is like, but I imagine it’s similar to that.” But as for her worries? “It doesn’t make you a monster, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just part of a natural order.”
“In my experience, it’s more of a… Need. A requirement. There’s no enjoyment, but there also isn’t no enjoyment. It just simply is.” He pauses, falling back into the character trait of not being able to use words well. So he works his jaw slightly and regards her openness, mulling over his words until it can make sense. “It’s purely survival, nothing more and nothing less. Some of my shifts enjoy the aspect of hunting, though, if it helps. The stalking through grass or circling from above just waiting for the right time. But ultimately, the act of it is just transferring it. You sacrifice them so you can live. Anything after that is just... human.” He doesn’t know if it helps, but he does reach up to scratch at Petronella absentmindedly, reading her face and offering his own relatively open, freckles lining his face alongside the pale scar that puckers along his cheek and the one that bisects his eyebrow.
“I survived a year after the war eating only when my shifts forced me to. I can’t begin to understand what the bloodlust is like, but I imagine it’s similar to that.” But as for her worries? “It doesn’t make you a monster, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just part of a natural order.”
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.
