SUNJATA
i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring
and meeting all my vices in the ring
There was definitely a way to find out, and he clenches his jaw as he stares at the ring once more on his finger, gaze flickering up to meet her as she continues. And he does, he remembers it vividly, had hoped it had been the words that made Phoebe call off the wedding. He opens his right palm then, staring at the scar along it, the blood he’d placed on the midwife, the Korofi tradition that had been a royal tradition – a semblance of you’re mine and I get to do what I want, the epitome of an arranged marriage – and he shivers lightly with that.
He’d never wanted the wedding, had never wanted to sign himself away, to give himself to someone in such a formal way. He’d never wanted that attention drawn on him, to offer his protection simply because she shared his name, when he much preferred the alternative of finding out what life had available for him. Especially after Lusea’s death, his involvement with his Guild that would take him to the ocean, that would take him away and away more often than not. And he closes his palm then.
It didn’t mean anything, he’d not meant it when he said it, even though he had tried. He’d warned her, became that monster to try and scare her away – horns and claws and teeth at the throat to try and get her to change her mind. And she hadn’t, out of stubbornness and spite, and he exhales another short breath, gaze lifting to find hers as she meets his. He feels bare beneath the look, with how much she knows of him, how much she could destroy him and not even lift a finger.
And yet he can still feel the way her thin body melded against his own, so much different than previous lovers, so much different that he craves to see what it’s like. And so he remains silent, listening as she says that it was, and he bites down on his lower lip, trying to push away the feeling of how warm she’d been, the tinge to her cheeks, her first kiss, and in between the regret and wistfulness, a need, he breaks his eye contact with her to look back at his finger, his right hand shifting back into rough calloused pads, and he fiddles with the ring for the very first time, slipping it off his finger.
’Fuck it.’ He thinks, tossing the ring along the sand beside Haai and his shirt that remains along the shore. But he doesn’t move an inch closer, afraid she’ll run, afraid she’ll change her mind, and so when he looks back to her all he gives her is that same look, that same deep gaze of swallowing the world whole, devouring and savoring, and he trembles slightly where he stands awaiting the consequences.
He’d never wanted the wedding, had never wanted to sign himself away, to give himself to someone in such a formal way. He’d never wanted that attention drawn on him, to offer his protection simply because she shared his name, when he much preferred the alternative of finding out what life had available for him. Especially after Lusea’s death, his involvement with his Guild that would take him to the ocean, that would take him away and away more often than not. And he closes his palm then.
It didn’t mean anything, he’d not meant it when he said it, even though he had tried. He’d warned her, became that monster to try and scare her away – horns and claws and teeth at the throat to try and get her to change her mind. And she hadn’t, out of stubbornness and spite, and he exhales another short breath, gaze lifting to find hers as she meets his. He feels bare beneath the look, with how much she knows of him, how much she could destroy him and not even lift a finger.
And yet he can still feel the way her thin body melded against his own, so much different than previous lovers, so much different that he craves to see what it’s like. And so he remains silent, listening as she says that it was, and he bites down on his lower lip, trying to push away the feeling of how warm she’d been, the tinge to her cheeks, her first kiss, and in between the regret and wistfulness, a need, he breaks his eye contact with her to look back at his finger, his right hand shifting back into rough calloused pads, and he fiddles with the ring for the very first time, slipping it off his finger.
’Fuck it.’ He thinks, tossing the ring along the sand beside Haai and his shirt that remains along the shore. But he doesn’t move an inch closer, afraid she’ll run, afraid she’ll change her mind, and so when he looks back to her all he gives her is that same look, that same deep gaze of swallowing the world whole, devouring and savoring, and he trembles slightly where he stands awaiting the consequences.
so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me
there ain't a casket strong enough for me
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.
