SuNJATA
the flood
Talking about her, it helps. It makes him miss her in ways he can’t accurately describe, but he doesn’t need to. Instead, he can focus on what she was like, the shit they’d gone through together, the life they had lived when she was around. And it was beautiful, really, in the end. Just too bad they couldn’t finish what they’d started. And telling Hotaru was easier still, because she didn’t really know anything about him, anything about Korofi or the rebellion, didn’t know Lusea or what she looked like, the sound to her voice, the strength she had.
And he can tell her that, at least.
He sips from the glass, trying to take it slow and finding it easier as she rests her elbows on the table, steel eyes drifting over her as she remarks to Lusea’s first words, and his smile grows a bit broader – still sorrowful, still sad, but something akin to nostalgia and amusement that still manages to break through the cracks. “Well, I wasn’t exactly like this when I met her.” He says, gesturing to himself.
But the question of what she looked like catches him a bit off guard, not knowing he’d have to explain that, not knowing if he had enough words to describe how he had viewed her. But he could try, if for nothing else, but for her. To keep the imagery going, to give the faceless woman a face for the bi-colored one he’s shared a bed with. “She was taller than you.” He begins, smile edging toward a smirk. “Beautiful bronze skin, dark eyes like flint. I’d always tell her that her eyes were the ones to spark the fires.” He pauses, head tilting up to look along the flames of the fire, as if he could see her there. “Long dark hair. A rather soft face unless you were on the receiving end of her bite, which I tried not to be, most of the time.” A soft snort before he looks back to Hotaru and drinks the rest of the glass, pausing before pouring half of another one. “It was hard to get her to trust anything, but her father was the leader of the rebellion my father was trying to snuff. I don’t blame her for not trusting me, not with the name and lineage I have. I had to prove myself to her, to all of them, to prove I wasn’t a spy despite the best attempts my father had at making me appear like one.” Not what she looked like, per say, but you could see it in the way she held herself high. A posture that only came from such a thought process, that he's sure Hotaru can understand.
And he can tell her that, at least.
He sips from the glass, trying to take it slow and finding it easier as she rests her elbows on the table, steel eyes drifting over her as she remarks to Lusea’s first words, and his smile grows a bit broader – still sorrowful, still sad, but something akin to nostalgia and amusement that still manages to break through the cracks. “Well, I wasn’t exactly like this when I met her.” He says, gesturing to himself.
But the question of what she looked like catches him a bit off guard, not knowing he’d have to explain that, not knowing if he had enough words to describe how he had viewed her. But he could try, if for nothing else, but for her. To keep the imagery going, to give the faceless woman a face for the bi-colored one he’s shared a bed with. “She was taller than you.” He begins, smile edging toward a smirk. “Beautiful bronze skin, dark eyes like flint. I’d always tell her that her eyes were the ones to spark the fires.” He pauses, head tilting up to look along the flames of the fire, as if he could see her there. “Long dark hair. A rather soft face unless you were on the receiving end of her bite, which I tried not to be, most of the time.” A soft snort before he looks back to Hotaru and drinks the rest of the glass, pausing before pouring half of another one. “It was hard to get her to trust anything, but her father was the leader of the rebellion my father was trying to snuff. I don’t blame her for not trusting me, not with the name and lineage I have. I had to prove myself to her, to all of them, to prove I wasn’t a spy despite the best attempts my father had at making me appear like one.” Not what she looked like, per say, but you could see it in the way she held herself high. A posture that only came from such a thought process, that he's sure Hotaru can understand.
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.
