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SUNJATA
SUNJATA
He can’t tell if she flinches from him or if it’s the blight causing the tremors, but he knows she’s back – he knows it the moment he holds her tight and she breaks down in his arms, and he can’t do anything, say anything, other than bite the inside of his cheek and rest his head on her own, shutting his eyes tight as his own arms flicker with the hint of a tremor. Not blight related, but a crash of his own emotions, while he tries to regulate them, to listen to her bubbling apologies and sobs, refusing to respond until she begins to calm.
“It’s not you.” He reiterates roughly, reaching up with a hand to stroke her hair before he buries his face into her neck and closes his eyes. He rocks her gently, slowly, trying to calm her, trying to quell the panic that’s set in. The same he does for himself, for the anger and vibrancy that gleams in his eyes and throughout his actions, screaming for a release. He focuses first on his own breathing, using her as a rock to steady himself, to hold her as if nobody could take her away from him. “The blight is getting worse in you.” He replies after a while, lifting his head to look down at her, his scratch clotting but not before running another small stream of blood down his cheek to his jaw, like some kind of bloody teardrop.
“It’s not you, Phoebe.”
“It’s not you.” He reiterates roughly, reaching up with a hand to stroke her hair before he buries his face into her neck and closes his eyes. He rocks her gently, slowly, trying to calm her, trying to quell the panic that’s set in. The same he does for himself, for the anger and vibrancy that gleams in his eyes and throughout his actions, screaming for a release. He focuses first on his own breathing, using her as a rock to steady himself, to hold her as if nobody could take her away from him. “The blight is getting worse in you.” He replies after a while, lifting his head to look down at her, his scratch clotting but not before running another small stream of blood down his cheek to his jaw, like some kind of bloody teardrop.
“It’s not you, Phoebe.”
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.
