SuNJATA
the flood
The last thing he expects is the rage and heartbreak that crosses her from his story, and he clings to her just as much as she holds him, feeling the thundering heartbeat beneath her pulse that is stark and different from the calm uncertainty of his own. Her claim, her vow, takes him aback as he looks away from her then, only minimally as her hands reach for his neck, thumb against his jaw and his gaze finds hers again. “It happened awhile ago. Lusea and I made amends before she died.” Whether it meant sleeping with Loren to accomplish it, well, that was another story. Instead, he watches as she tries to cap off her rage, unsure of why she’s so upset, why she’s so fierce and protective over this.
He does not connect the dots.
Sure, it was manipulative, but he had been too. He had been manipulated his entire life in a sense that he couldn’t ever see the warning signs. He had a choice in it, he could have left, he could have done so many things. And yet, he didn’t. It was him, in the end, that had chosen the fate he’d had. But he remains silent while she rampages on, a warpath, rubbing a hand over her eye that he can’t help but to watch until her next comment stills him. “I…” He doesn’t understand, they both had been willing, but even still, pieces begin to fall into place slowly but surely, and he can’t figure out what to say, not while the ball drops into the pit of his stomach. He clenches his jaw as she continues on, uncertainty and a small amount of disbelief in his shadowed eyes.
“Don’t be angry.” He says at first, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear, gaze flickering from his hand back to her eyes. “I brought it on myself by being unable to stay away.” He explains in the way that his mind works, in the way that he can’t quite push her away, how he always craves to have moments however fleeting they may be. “I made mistakes, it’s what I do.” Tattooed shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, thinking nothing of it. Thinking it’s one hundred percent his fault.
He’s able to pull her close at least, and he can feel her tremble as she presses her forehead against his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her to hold her near. “I’m afraid it’s impossible.” He offers with a deep rumble, accented and surprisingly honest. “I always end up around her one way or another. She could’ve mothered my child.” He sets his head back, looks up to the ceiling while his mind races with all the implications, though his heartbeat remains steady. "I feel like I owe it to her for the things I did."
He does not connect the dots.
Sure, it was manipulative, but he had been too. He had been manipulated his entire life in a sense that he couldn’t ever see the warning signs. He had a choice in it, he could have left, he could have done so many things. And yet, he didn’t. It was him, in the end, that had chosen the fate he’d had. But he remains silent while she rampages on, a warpath, rubbing a hand over her eye that he can’t help but to watch until her next comment stills him. “I…” He doesn’t understand, they both had been willing, but even still, pieces begin to fall into place slowly but surely, and he can’t figure out what to say, not while the ball drops into the pit of his stomach. He clenches his jaw as she continues on, uncertainty and a small amount of disbelief in his shadowed eyes.
“Don’t be angry.” He says at first, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear, gaze flickering from his hand back to her eyes. “I brought it on myself by being unable to stay away.” He explains in the way that his mind works, in the way that he can’t quite push her away, how he always craves to have moments however fleeting they may be. “I made mistakes, it’s what I do.” Tattooed shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, thinking nothing of it. Thinking it’s one hundred percent his fault.
He’s able to pull her close at least, and he can feel her tremble as she presses her forehead against his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her to hold her near. “I’m afraid it’s impossible.” He offers with a deep rumble, accented and surprisingly honest. “I always end up around her one way or another. She could’ve mothered my child.” He sets his head back, looks up to the ceiling while his mind races with all the implications, though his heartbeat remains steady. "I feel like I owe it to her for the things I did."
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.
