SUNJATA
The water rushes over his feet and the base of his legs, and he sighs inwardly as he inspects the sparkling sands beneath him. It isn’t until a voice calls out to him that he realizes someone else is there – the sound of the rushing water drowning out everything but the feeling of home and rampages and the escape that had taken him from country to country. His head turns toward the girl as he removes the sand from his hands and lets the water rinse the left behind pieces.
“Geen?” He hums to her with a chuckle, standing and making his way back toward the shore, toward her – nearly towering in his height. “I’m afraid I don’t. Poor name for a person, though.” He attempts to joke, not knowing how close to home it is. But there might be something sort of familiar about the way Sunjata stands, for Melita, for the way he favors his weight on one foot, the way his face too shares an almost sharpened harshness to it.
“Geen means ‘no’ where I’m from.” He attempts to explain, wiping his hands of the water as he stands in the damp sands. It’s only now that he gets a good look at her and his brow raises in suspicion. Something too familiar and uncomfortable about it, but he watches her briefly with a curious look. “Who are you?” He asks, an edge to his voice as he grows suspicious.
Who else was here that knew his language? Enough to think that someone’s name was such a trivial word?
“Geen?” He hums to her with a chuckle, standing and making his way back toward the shore, toward her – nearly towering in his height. “I’m afraid I don’t. Poor name for a person, though.” He attempts to joke, not knowing how close to home it is. But there might be something sort of familiar about the way Sunjata stands, for Melita, for the way he favors his weight on one foot, the way his face too shares an almost sharpened harshness to it.
“Geen means ‘no’ where I’m from.” He attempts to explain, wiping his hands of the water as he stands in the damp sands. It’s only now that he gets a good look at her and his brow raises in suspicion. Something too familiar and uncomfortable about it, but he watches her briefly with a curious look. “Who are you?” He asks, an edge to his voice as he grows suspicious.
Who else was here that knew his language? Enough to think that someone’s name was such a trivial word?
the deeper you dig, the darker it gets
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.
