SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself
saving everybody else to save yourself
The bath is brought in, and Sunjata says nothing. All he does is drink deeper from the mug, waiting until they’ve gone before glancing to the steaming tub – thinking that he shouldn’t get something warm and something nice, when Peter and Adam should be back at the Citadel together, whole, safe, fine. He shudders at the thought, swallowing hard as the buzz from the alcohol finally begins to settle in, flushing his cheeks and his neck ever so slightly, ever so faintly.
He finishes undressing as she approaches, standing before him chest to chest, and he looks down to her. Silent, unable to find any words to say to break the silence. It feels heavy, devouring, full of nothing and yet everything, enough to press in on him where he stands, looking to her as she goes to take his hand, pulling him to the tub. He goes without hesitation, surprisingly, too tired and hurt inside to care. But once they reach the edge of it, she tells him to sit, and so he does… Somewhat begrudgingly, but knowing he needs to get the blood off him one way or another.
He clenches his jaw, slipping into the bath, hissing as the warmth seeps into his skin and bones, burning against how cold he’s become. But once within it, he starts to adapt, leaning back to where his back meets the edge of the tub, head tilting back as he exhales slowly. And perhaps it’s the warmth of the bath mixed with the buzz of his mind, the shift in his mind to where he can feel the fractures forming, the burning and trauma burrowing within.
“I got them killed, Maea.”
He finishes undressing as she approaches, standing before him chest to chest, and he looks down to her. Silent, unable to find any words to say to break the silence. It feels heavy, devouring, full of nothing and yet everything, enough to press in on him where he stands, looking to her as she goes to take his hand, pulling him to the tub. He goes without hesitation, surprisingly, too tired and hurt inside to care. But once they reach the edge of it, she tells him to sit, and so he does… Somewhat begrudgingly, but knowing he needs to get the blood off him one way or another.
He clenches his jaw, slipping into the bath, hissing as the warmth seeps into his skin and bones, burning against how cold he’s become. But once within it, he starts to adapt, leaning back to where his back meets the edge of the tub, head tilting back as he exhales slowly. And perhaps it’s the warmth of the bath mixed with the buzz of his mind, the shift in his mind to where he can feel the fractures forming, the burning and trauma burrowing within.
“I got them killed, Maea.”
and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell
that's the story to tell
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.
