SUNJATA
the flood
i can't believe that you could just say
that "the answers unlock this gate"
that "the answers unlock this gate"
A vacation? He wants to laugh. The idea is foreign, a time where he might not have to worry about anything. Because that’s all he fucking does anymore. Worry and worry some more, push people away and keep himself in his pit of despair until he burns and crashes and self-destructs. It’s a never-ending cycle for him. To get pushed more and more, closer toward that edge until he dares to try and take the step.
Only… He never does. He’s tried to before, multiple times. And none of them had worked.
The bluntness of Nate outliving him reaches him in such a sharp way that he inhales somewhat sharply, gaze flickering up to the Ascended while he speaks – but it’s only briefly. A shake of his head, a shrug of feathered shoulders as he lifts the glass to his lips again to try and drown it out, to bandaid the problem so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore, can pretend it doesn’t exist until it festers worse and he lashes out.
However, the anger from Nate is unexpected and somehow Sunjata feels a bit more validated for his reaction – the muscle feathering in his jaw again. “I don’t know.” He offers quietly, unsure. “She called me an incubus, as if I had any fucking choice whether the people around me died or not.” A scoff of a sound, a sharp exhale and inhale. “She had some magic or something, I don’t know. It was like she was holding my soul, jerked me around and I was incapable of stopping it.” A shiver runs down his spine as he recalls the way he’d grown jagged and shaky with the movement she’d caused within him. His fingers almost tremble around the glass, twitching slightly as he hears Nate and feels him pull him closer.
The slow words almost seem to pierce through it, that block of his mind. But he shifts somewhat uncomfortably, head tilting up as his feathers flex beneath Nate’s touch. “What do you need from me, Nate?” He asks bluntly, perhaps a bit sharply, muscles feathering in his jaw as he regards Nate. “What exactly do you get by sticking with me and putting yourself through the never ending bullshit that's my life?”
Only… He never does. He’s tried to before, multiple times. And none of them had worked.
The bluntness of Nate outliving him reaches him in such a sharp way that he inhales somewhat sharply, gaze flickering up to the Ascended while he speaks – but it’s only briefly. A shake of his head, a shrug of feathered shoulders as he lifts the glass to his lips again to try and drown it out, to bandaid the problem so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore, can pretend it doesn’t exist until it festers worse and he lashes out.
However, the anger from Nate is unexpected and somehow Sunjata feels a bit more validated for his reaction – the muscle feathering in his jaw again. “I don’t know.” He offers quietly, unsure. “She called me an incubus, as if I had any fucking choice whether the people around me died or not.” A scoff of a sound, a sharp exhale and inhale. “She had some magic or something, I don’t know. It was like she was holding my soul, jerked me around and I was incapable of stopping it.” A shiver runs down his spine as he recalls the way he’d grown jagged and shaky with the movement she’d caused within him. His fingers almost tremble around the glass, twitching slightly as he hears Nate and feels him pull him closer.
The slow words almost seem to pierce through it, that block of his mind. But he shifts somewhat uncomfortably, head tilting up as his feathers flex beneath Nate’s touch. “What do you need from me, Nate?” He asks bluntly, perhaps a bit sharply, muscles feathering in his jaw as he regards Nate. “What exactly do you get by sticking with me and putting yourself through the never ending bullshit that's my life?”
'cause if you knew his name, not a thing would change
you'd still be wishing you were blessed
you'd still be wishing you were blessed
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.
