?
SUNJATA
SUNJATA
She spits the venom back at him and he shakes his head, knowing deep down somewhere that it’s the blight talking, and yet he kind prevent the churning frustration that grows in the pit of his stomach. “You're right, I don’t get a choice, but I can try just as hard as you are to prevent it.” He snaps back at her, until he faces her and she asks him the one question that gives him pause.
His eyes widen a small fraction, and suddenly he recalls a similar situation, back home with Lusea in the comfort of the back room of the bar she called home — between teeth and sheets, a taunting lilting voice. “Do you love me?” And he had paused then just as he does now, such a strong word that lead to so much heartbreak that it makes him clench his jaw and turn his head from her. He knows that deep down he cares for her, but he cannot let himself say it.
The last time he had, had been the last. A proclaimed scream above the buildings of the city, with Lusea in his arms, and everything was perfect, only twelve hours that stood between then and their capture. He bites down hard at his cheek, nearly to draw blood, hoping that she can understand the way he shows it in other ways, because of how painful it is to say it out loud.
It isn’t much different here, either. He could say it to her, and she could be gone the next season. It was a curse, and one he refused to let himself fall into again. “Phoebe, I care about you. A lot. But I just, I can’t say it.” There’s near desperation in his voice at this, exasperated and weary as he fights the memories away; brought only back when the venom from her returns and she makes a comment about nobles.
His hardened steel gaze slips back to her, and he grits his teeth at the implication before he repeats what she had literally said just before. “You can say that all you want but years from now? Will you say the same?” He asks, a snort leaving him as he shakes his head. “We have rushed into this, into all of it, and you’re willing to stick with an asshole like me and claim you won’t regret what I am or become, just to experience an attempt at having a happy life?” He asks with a huff of a mock laugh. Because in Jata’s mind, there is no possible outcome where he would ever be truly happy. There’s always something to come and take it away, to destroy and blunder. “What about when you live through this blight? And if I married you, and did all the things you wanted to give you some happiness, you would inevitably resent the decision you’ve made. A decision that you have made in desperation.”
He might not be infected by the blight, but he knows his temper has shifted, and there’s a small amount of an apology that lingers in his eye, but he can’t mask the truth.
His eyes widen a small fraction, and suddenly he recalls a similar situation, back home with Lusea in the comfort of the back room of the bar she called home — between teeth and sheets, a taunting lilting voice. “Do you love me?” And he had paused then just as he does now, such a strong word that lead to so much heartbreak that it makes him clench his jaw and turn his head from her. He knows that deep down he cares for her, but he cannot let himself say it.
The last time he had, had been the last. A proclaimed scream above the buildings of the city, with Lusea in his arms, and everything was perfect, only twelve hours that stood between then and their capture. He bites down hard at his cheek, nearly to draw blood, hoping that she can understand the way he shows it in other ways, because of how painful it is to say it out loud.
It isn’t much different here, either. He could say it to her, and she could be gone the next season. It was a curse, and one he refused to let himself fall into again. “Phoebe, I care about you. A lot. But I just, I can’t say it.” There’s near desperation in his voice at this, exasperated and weary as he fights the memories away; brought only back when the venom from her returns and she makes a comment about nobles.
His hardened steel gaze slips back to her, and he grits his teeth at the implication before he repeats what she had literally said just before. “You can say that all you want but years from now? Will you say the same?” He asks, a snort leaving him as he shakes his head. “We have rushed into this, into all of it, and you’re willing to stick with an asshole like me and claim you won’t regret what I am or become, just to experience an attempt at having a happy life?” He asks with a huff of a mock laugh. Because in Jata’s mind, there is no possible outcome where he would ever be truly happy. There’s always something to come and take it away, to destroy and blunder. “What about when you live through this blight? And if I married you, and did all the things you wanted to give you some happiness, you would inevitably resent the decision you’ve made. A decision that you have made in desperation.”
He might not be infected by the blight, but he knows his temper has shifted, and there’s a small amount of an apology that lingers in his eye, but he can’t mask the truth.
you were forged in fire
& you rose from the ashes
murder and mercy rolled into one
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.
