SUNJATA
the flood
with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away
tip toe further away
He shifts easily enough to fit her wherever she wants to be, touching and touching and tangled up with one another – no need to worry about what might happen next, because right here was what was important to him. The mention of a small garden and a space for a library has a small hint of nostalgia crossing his face as he nods lightly against her. “When I was younger… Because they didn’t know if I’d live or not, there weren’t any sort of trinkets or things in my bedroom. The walls were white, same with the bedding, everything was plain and as if I was never there.” He explains somewhat thoughtfully.
“All I ever wanted was to have something of mine. Like the bar is, now.” With the hints of bronze and blues, of Lusea and him designed throughout. Perhaps he’d gone all out on it, but it was… Comfortable, like a child growing up sheltered their entire lives to rebel hard once freedom came to them. He had done that, and then some.
But their lips find one another’s again, and he practically hums with the ease of it, the comfort of it for however long – feeling her feathers beneath his fingers, feeling her hands trace over his own. But she breaks the kiss again after gods know how long, and she peppers them along his face before settling. He leans his head into the pillow gently, leaning back a small amount to raise his hand along the wing that still covered him, light and gentle as if testing it.
The question causes him to turn his head to look at her with a soft crooked smile. “Some of them, yes. Others...” He says, abandoning touching her own feathers to run his hands through his own where he finds one of the longer ones – not a blood feather but one that felt loose within the confines of his skin. He plucks the one, lifting it to her face to tap her nose with the end of the navy plume, a smirk crossing his face. "No."
“All I ever wanted was to have something of mine. Like the bar is, now.” With the hints of bronze and blues, of Lusea and him designed throughout. Perhaps he’d gone all out on it, but it was… Comfortable, like a child growing up sheltered their entire lives to rebel hard once freedom came to them. He had done that, and then some.
But their lips find one another’s again, and he practically hums with the ease of it, the comfort of it for however long – feeling her feathers beneath his fingers, feeling her hands trace over his own. But she breaks the kiss again after gods know how long, and she peppers them along his face before settling. He leans his head into the pillow gently, leaning back a small amount to raise his hand along the wing that still covered him, light and gentle as if testing it.
The question causes him to turn his head to look at her with a soft crooked smile. “Some of them, yes. Others...” He says, abandoning touching her own feathers to run his hands through his own where he finds one of the longer ones – not a blood feather but one that felt loose within the confines of his skin. He plucks the one, lifting it to her face to tap her nose with the end of the navy plume, a smirk crossing his face. "No."
further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint
i'm no savior, i'm no saint
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.
