SuNJATA
the flood
“We can flip something for the decision.” He offers with a small smile, unable to decide between the two which would be better. Both would suit the purpose they required of it. So he grows silent, working while Melita works beside him, telling the story of Lusea, of when he had met her and when they’d grown close, of when nothing could stop them – well, except for Melita’s father and his own. But that comes later, much later.
He snorts at Melita’s interjection. “I ask myself that a lot.” He replies with a smirk, feeling the edge of the sorrow drift off in place for the stories he’s telling, the webs woven with Lusea at the center, him hopelessly dragging along. “Well, he asked me to bring in the items, and gods there were a lot. Furniture, boxes, things of the like. And eventually when we were done, he invited me in to chat.” A brief shrug at the thought. The way that her father had felt more like what a father should feel like, a feeling he’d never received and would never again. “So I did. And he sort of… Inducted me then? Gave me a new shirt, one that signified I was a part of them. But Lusea had brought it over when I was shirtless and she was so close to biting the head off of her father.” He chuckles lightly.
“Nobles there weren’t allowed to mark their bodies unless it was scars from battle, so tattoos weren’t something we could get. But he suggested if I really wanted to tell my father off I should get some.” Steel eyes slide over to her again with a smirk. “So I did a few days later. I got the wings on my shoulders.” He pauses, recalling that Melita had likely seen them before. “They started treating me like a member of it then, since it’s permanent, so they began to let me do more things. Lusea hated every minute of it.” He snorts, reaching back up to place another shelf. “But then they let a picture out that had me in it with my tattoos, and my father found out. Threatened the life of my mother if I didn’t reach out and tell them the location of the headquarters.” A frown replaces the smirk that was once there. “And we didn’t really think he had it in him, honestly. He’d never… Been that bad before.” Not to him. He never threatened his life, per say, but Sunjata can still recall the bruises and marks left behind. “So I didn’t. I didn’t believe him. I should have though, believed him. He killed my mother that day.” Over the rebellion of the tattoos, over a son that wouldn’t come back.
A muscle feathers in his jaw briefly. “So… I did sort of what I’m doing now. Holed myself away in my room. Lusea came to the door that night with a bottle of her father’s best whiskey and stayed with me that night.”
He snorts at Melita’s interjection. “I ask myself that a lot.” He replies with a smirk, feeling the edge of the sorrow drift off in place for the stories he’s telling, the webs woven with Lusea at the center, him hopelessly dragging along. “Well, he asked me to bring in the items, and gods there were a lot. Furniture, boxes, things of the like. And eventually when we were done, he invited me in to chat.” A brief shrug at the thought. The way that her father had felt more like what a father should feel like, a feeling he’d never received and would never again. “So I did. And he sort of… Inducted me then? Gave me a new shirt, one that signified I was a part of them. But Lusea had brought it over when I was shirtless and she was so close to biting the head off of her father.” He chuckles lightly.
“Nobles there weren’t allowed to mark their bodies unless it was scars from battle, so tattoos weren’t something we could get. But he suggested if I really wanted to tell my father off I should get some.” Steel eyes slide over to her again with a smirk. “So I did a few days later. I got the wings on my shoulders.” He pauses, recalling that Melita had likely seen them before. “They started treating me like a member of it then, since it’s permanent, so they began to let me do more things. Lusea hated every minute of it.” He snorts, reaching back up to place another shelf. “But then they let a picture out that had me in it with my tattoos, and my father found out. Threatened the life of my mother if I didn’t reach out and tell them the location of the headquarters.” A frown replaces the smirk that was once there. “And we didn’t really think he had it in him, honestly. He’d never… Been that bad before.” Not to him. He never threatened his life, per say, but Sunjata can still recall the bruises and marks left behind. “So I didn’t. I didn’t believe him. I should have though, believed him. He killed my mother that day.” Over the rebellion of the tattoos, over a son that wouldn’t come back.
A muscle feathers in his jaw briefly. “So… I did sort of what I’m doing now. Holed myself away in my room. Lusea came to the door that night with a bottle of her father’s best whiskey and stayed with me that night.”
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
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.
