SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself
saving everybody else to save yourself
He does lean his head against her thigh when she settles in, leans back and closes his eyes after he tells her the briefest hoarse pain he’s experienced with this. And he’s quiet, so very quiet while she continues to rub away the blood and core from his skin. But when she asks what happened, where does he even begin? He’s gotten to the worst part already, the part with the death. Nothing about cannibals, nothing about the rest of the adventure – of pissing off Amalia and Deimos, of Adam, wonderful Adam and Peter stepping between the Shield and Sunjata.
And he’d gotten them killed.
There’s a shudder that runs down his spine and he turns his head, squeezing his eyes tighter, a hand coming up to cover his eyes, letting her clean the side of his face and neck, a stuttering sigh leaving him as he tries to find the words. But his throat feels too tight, feels like sandpaper with the cold and trauma that grips it within its fist. “We found the dragon and we woke it. It killed Peter’s companion and Adam's, knocked Peter… Knocked him unconscious.” He struggles to say – why had he stayed near the entrance? Why hadn’t he helped? Why hadn’t he managed to stop Adam from firing his gun at the dragon?
Why hadn’t he done more than sit there, useless as he could be, watching as they were murdered before his eyes?
“Adam went to get him.” His other hand clenches in the water, shakes as he pulls his head back again, jaw clenching as he tries to quell his breathing. It feels like it had when he was seventeen, when the Trial had arrived. How he had become numb, shattered, broken inside with no outlet to channel it.
And he’d gotten them killed.
There’s a shudder that runs down his spine and he turns his head, squeezing his eyes tighter, a hand coming up to cover his eyes, letting her clean the side of his face and neck, a stuttering sigh leaving him as he tries to find the words. But his throat feels too tight, feels like sandpaper with the cold and trauma that grips it within its fist. “We found the dragon and we woke it. It killed Peter’s companion and Adam's, knocked Peter… Knocked him unconscious.” He struggles to say – why had he stayed near the entrance? Why hadn’t he helped? Why hadn’t he managed to stop Adam from firing his gun at the dragon?
Why hadn’t he done more than sit there, useless as he could be, watching as they were murdered before his eyes?
“Adam went to get him.” His other hand clenches in the water, shakes as he pulls his head back again, jaw clenching as he tries to quell his breathing. It feels like it had when he was seventeen, when the Trial had arrived. How he had become numb, shattered, broken inside with no outlet to channel it.
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.
