you will not choke the divine from me
There’s another snort sent Oliver’s way at the dramatics, of being lost in the snow, at freezing to death. He finds it unlikely that the man beside him would do anything like that without having a chance to start — memories or not. When faced with the possibility of life or death, most tended to crave and do the impossible for life. “Just have to hobble your way to civilization.” He rumbles in response, though the thought does bring an amused smirk to his lip — that and the alcohol.
The question, however, does surprise him enough that his steel gaze flits to Oliver with a dark raised brow. He’d just assumed everyone had heard the term before. “It means…” He struggles to find the right words to say. “Like if you’re by a river when it rains and it overflows in the grounds and houses around it. It’s overwhelming, too much it can handle, consuming.” He finds them all to be accurate descriptions. “Lusea was the flame of Korofi. I was the flood. She burned and burned until she was snuffed out.” Snuffed out again and again. How did she think she could survive, a fire, among the winter winds? “I was the flood, which meant that despite her fire and brightness, her destruction, mine was a bit deeper. I wasn’t noticeable until it was too late, and by then I’d overtake them, overwhelm them, drown them.” He’d done it here, too, by being too much and yet not enough all the same.
But he shifts to a panther and he can’t add much more to the stories of him in Korofi, because Oliver can’t understand him aside from purrs and growls and roaring, but his whiskers flick at the understanding of Oliver’s question. To pet him? Move either paw? He snorts, a feline hum of a growl leaving his maw before he rolls to place his head along Oliver’s arm, a brush of his whiskers as though he’s telling him it’s fine to pet him, to touch the dark fur that lines his body. He’ll let the blonde man know when it’s too much.
The question, however, does surprise him enough that his steel gaze flits to Oliver with a dark raised brow. He’d just assumed everyone had heard the term before. “It means…” He struggles to find the right words to say. “Like if you’re by a river when it rains and it overflows in the grounds and houses around it. It’s overwhelming, too much it can handle, consuming.” He finds them all to be accurate descriptions. “Lusea was the flame of Korofi. I was the flood. She burned and burned until she was snuffed out.” Snuffed out again and again. How did she think she could survive, a fire, among the winter winds? “I was the flood, which meant that despite her fire and brightness, her destruction, mine was a bit deeper. I wasn’t noticeable until it was too late, and by then I’d overtake them, overwhelm them, drown them.” He’d done it here, too, by being too much and yet not enough all the same.
But he shifts to a panther and he can’t add much more to the stories of him in Korofi, because Oliver can’t understand him aside from purrs and growls and roaring, but his whiskers flick at the understanding of Oliver’s question. To pet him? Move either paw? He snorts, a feline hum of a growl leaving his maw before he rolls to place his head along Oliver’s arm, a brush of his whiskers as though he’s telling him it’s fine to pet him, to touch the dark fur that lines his body. He’ll let the blonde man know when it’s too much.
sunjata
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.
