SuNjATA
the flood
At first, it was a garbled mess of words that he absolutely couldn’t understand. Nor did he try, with his head swimming and absent-minded grabbing to pull Oliver into him and let the other man fall apart. How much it reminded him of himself, how much it reminded him of how he wished his own father had done the same, rather than sitting there telling him how proud he was that Sunjata, a teenager, had managed to cull down the herd.
But unlike Oliver, Sunjata is used to blood on his hands. Used to it more than he should be. But that was neither here nor there, and instead he lets Oliver take as much time as he needs to formulate the words, taking the time to pat the man on the back, and to listen to him. It was a valid concern, and it had been a real person behind the door that time. Heaving a quiet sigh, he nods, though it’s unlikely Oliver will see it.
Sunjata had also been willing to let someone die for the sake of the safety of the Rathskeller.
But at the same time, he was a killer, a murderer. And Oliver, well, despite his memory loss, the Flood highly doubts he was. “It’s okay.” He finally rumbles, accented deeply because of how drunk he is. “That’s the shitty part of this whole thing. You don’t know if it’s real or not. That monster we almost let in earlier, couldn’t been a real person. I was ready to leave him there.” He admits, shrugging lightly, reaching for the bottle that Oliver holds.
“It’s… Difficult your first time.” He’s not sure why he’s talking about it so much, perhaps to help Oliver, perhaps to admit to the blonde man that he likely isn’t the type of guy he thought his friend was. “But it sounds like he got let in, right? So what’s the harm in that?” He asks, shrugging. To him, it’s not a big deal. He’s been hated, cursed, threatened. He’s also killed, survived, rebelled.
If anything, he’s experienced.
But unlike Oliver, Sunjata is used to blood on his hands. Used to it more than he should be. But that was neither here nor there, and instead he lets Oliver take as much time as he needs to formulate the words, taking the time to pat the man on the back, and to listen to him. It was a valid concern, and it had been a real person behind the door that time. Heaving a quiet sigh, he nods, though it’s unlikely Oliver will see it.
Sunjata had also been willing to let someone die for the sake of the safety of the Rathskeller.
But at the same time, he was a killer, a murderer. And Oliver, well, despite his memory loss, the Flood highly doubts he was. “It’s okay.” He finally rumbles, accented deeply because of how drunk he is. “That’s the shitty part of this whole thing. You don’t know if it’s real or not. That monster we almost let in earlier, couldn’t been a real person. I was ready to leave him there.” He admits, shrugging lightly, reaching for the bottle that Oliver holds.
“It’s… Difficult your first time.” He’s not sure why he’s talking about it so much, perhaps to help Oliver, perhaps to admit to the blonde man that he likely isn’t the type of guy he thought his friend was. “But it sounds like he got let in, right? So what’s the harm in that?” He asks, shrugging. To him, it’s not a big deal. He’s been hated, cursed, threatened. He’s also killed, survived, rebelled.
If anything, he’s experienced.
this ain't no place for no hero
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.
