SuNJATA
the flood
There’s an edge in the back of his mind that seems to say ’for now’ as she tells him he’s always welcome. Welcome for now, until he becomes too much, too overbearing, a flood to be snuffed out before it’s too late for those around him, close to him. But he nods anyway, passing it by as he announces his news, the information, why he looked like shit and had forgotten the Forum.
His eyes remain on her as she reaches her hand out, covering his as his gaze drops to her hand on his, small and pale in comparison to the calloused large hands he has. And when he looks back up at her, he can see a shadowed reflection of what he’s going through, his he clenching ever so slightly at her question. He’s basically been perpetually drunk the last few weeks, and when he wasn’t, things were rough, hard, terrible.
He doesn’t want to be that way, not with her, Peter’s words slinking in the back of his mind that it’s okay to let the sharpened mask fall, the edges of thorns. And so he does, giving her a nod and her hand a brief squeeze. “A drink if you want to get anything out of me.” He responds, the ghost of a smile for his flat terrible humor in the face of it.
It’s easier when he’s buzzed, when he’s drunk, to talk about it and not feel it so deeply. It’s easier when he doesn’t have to remember the first time she’d died and he’d done the same thing in a new land, a new place where nobody knew his name if he didn’t tell them his last name. Where nobody knew the Senzaok that had gotten the Flame of Korofi killed. Twice.
His eyes remain on her as she reaches her hand out, covering his as his gaze drops to her hand on his, small and pale in comparison to the calloused large hands he has. And when he looks back up at her, he can see a shadowed reflection of what he’s going through, his he clenching ever so slightly at her question. He’s basically been perpetually drunk the last few weeks, and when he wasn’t, things were rough, hard, terrible.
He doesn’t want to be that way, not with her, Peter’s words slinking in the back of his mind that it’s okay to let the sharpened mask fall, the edges of thorns. And so he does, giving her a nod and her hand a brief squeeze. “A drink if you want to get anything out of me.” He responds, the ghost of a smile for his flat terrible humor in the face of it.
It’s easier when he’s buzzed, when he’s drunk, to talk about it and not feel it so deeply. It’s easier when he doesn’t have to remember the first time she’d died and he’d done the same thing in a new land, a new place where nobody knew his name if he didn’t tell them his last name. Where nobody knew the Senzaok that had gotten the Flame of Korofi killed. Twice.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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.
