they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes
he's a demon, with a crown of blood
He can’t quite find a shirt that’s loose enough to keep him comfortable and relatively cool in the warmth that radiates from him, and so he sifts longer and longer as he goes from drawer to drawer, until he hears her soft voice and he doesn’t quite understand at first, pausing in his search. “Hmm?” He hums, tilting his head to look over at her over one shoulder.
And she clarified, and he understands, nodding slightly as he goes back to digging through the drawer. “They were my first tattoos.” He begins, though the story runs a bit deeper than that. “In Korofi, especially for nobles, had specific rules against getting tattoos or piercings or anything. They basically said the only alterations to the body would be the scars of battle,” clearly it’s said in an almost singsong tone, mocking in a sense. “So when I joined the rebellion, Lusea’s father mentioned to me that if I wanted to really get back at my father I should get a tattoo.” He pauses in his search once more, fingers tapping against the wood before he looks back at her over his shoulder.
“So, they’re kind of a ‘fuck you dad’ sort of thing. That and having the freedom to fly, that he couldn’t clip my wings. Something my mother wanted.” The ironic thing being he’d finally found his wings here, of all places. “It backfired though when my father found out and he killed my mother.” It almost seems like it doesn’t phase him, but his mother had been the one that encouraged the taking flight from under his fathers nose. And with it, bittersweet.
And she clarified, and he understands, nodding slightly as he goes back to digging through the drawer. “They were my first tattoos.” He begins, though the story runs a bit deeper than that. “In Korofi, especially for nobles, had specific rules against getting tattoos or piercings or anything. They basically said the only alterations to the body would be the scars of battle,” clearly it’s said in an almost singsong tone, mocking in a sense. “So when I joined the rebellion, Lusea’s father mentioned to me that if I wanted to really get back at my father I should get a tattoo.” He pauses in his search once more, fingers tapping against the wood before he looks back at her over his shoulder.
“So, they’re kind of a ‘fuck you dad’ sort of thing. That and having the freedom to fly, that he couldn’t clip my wings. Something my mother wanted.” The ironic thing being he’d finally found his wings here, of all places. “It backfired though when my father found out and he killed my mother.” It almost seems like it doesn’t phase him, but his mother had been the one that encouraged the taking flight from under his fathers nose. And with it, bittersweet.
does it look like he's still under your control?
SUNJATA
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.
