SUNJATA
“Whoever lived,” the soon to be Attuned hears Jigano repeat, and he nods quietly, dark hair adjusting with the movement through the wind that’s picked up, drifting bits of white snow into it until he runs his hand through it. “Well, in Korofi there were mostly deserts, but it flooded a lot in my area. So there were pits of sorts around the area, and they’d just… Stick us into one with daggers and the clothes on our backs.” His eyes almost glaze over in a sense, as if he can remember the terror he had – the worry as he managed to find a hiding spot, before someone had managed to smuggle a gun into the ring. Against the rules, but since it was there… Well, it added to the need of surviving.
He inhales deeply at the question, trying to figure out where to even start, before his lips part slightly. “We wrote and enforced the laws… And the laws weren’t great. We had to be ruthless, heartless, brutal to survive. And with the flooding? It only added to the absolute need to survive.” Despite the many times and urges he’d had to give it all up, give in. “Noble families had one daughter and one son. One to carry the line, the other to carry the name. And if they died, they had another. But if you ended up having two sons, when you tried for a daughter, families would orphan them to the other countries.” Oh, it was barbaric and backwards.
“They were focused on making sure the strongest of us were what were left.” He hums as the memories flood him like the rivers of Korofi. “But anyway, they made us into warriors of a sort. And the whole countries knew who we were. Would film us after we won, would post our portraits in the squares, to ensure everyone knew who we were.” And gods it had made it difficult when he joined the resistance.
At the comment, however, Sunjata manages to pull himself out of the well he’d fallen into, and he nods with a slight quirk to his lips. “I never got involved. I did my training, listened to the Arbiter drone on and on day after day, until eventually I abandoned it all.” A light roll of his shoulders. He had never looked forward to it, never wanted to be a part of it. He had been soft, gentle, once. But that was long ago.
He inhales deeply at the question, trying to figure out where to even start, before his lips part slightly. “We wrote and enforced the laws… And the laws weren’t great. We had to be ruthless, heartless, brutal to survive. And with the flooding? It only added to the absolute need to survive.” Despite the many times and urges he’d had to give it all up, give in. “Noble families had one daughter and one son. One to carry the line, the other to carry the name. And if they died, they had another. But if you ended up having two sons, when you tried for a daughter, families would orphan them to the other countries.” Oh, it was barbaric and backwards.
“They were focused on making sure the strongest of us were what were left.” He hums as the memories flood him like the rivers of Korofi. “But anyway, they made us into warriors of a sort. And the whole countries knew who we were. Would film us after we won, would post our portraits in the squares, to ensure everyone knew who we were.” And gods it had made it difficult when he joined the resistance.
At the comment, however, Sunjata manages to pull himself out of the well he’d fallen into, and he nods with a slight quirk to his lips. “I never got involved. I did my training, listened to the Arbiter drone on and on day after day, until eventually I abandoned it all.” A light roll of his shoulders. He had never looked forward to it, never wanted to be a part of it. He had been soft, gentle, once. But that was long ago.
come home. don't die so far from the sea—
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.
