SUNJATA
the flood
i'm nothing more than a page unwritten
on the pavement, blowing in the wind
on the pavement, blowing in the wind
The hearth’s flame picks up, and he briefly glances to it before turning around toward the bar – face full of exhaustion, bags beneath his eyes, a bit more scruff to his beard. He spots her as she nods toward the arm, and he almost mechanically extends his arm out to peer at the whirls and what not, a small hum leaving his throat in agreement. “I did.” He agrees quietly, shuffling over toward the bar to sit and rest his arms along the top of the bar, folding them before him as she comes to offer a drink.
It smells wonderful, and he inhales deeply as he takes the glass – silver gaze focusing on the glass as she speaks, gaze flickering up toward her when she mentions she has something that she thinks Maea wants him to have. “Oh?” A quiet response, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a deep sip. As he sets the glass down, he spots the feather and the letter – the penmanship that he recognizes intimately, a churning of his gut as he moves to pick up the feather first, lifting it in the space between him and Weaver – steel flickering up toward her with some dark amusement. “This is mine.” He says quietly, extending the rather bare arm – free of ink for the time being and letting the navy feathers separate the space of his bronze hued arm.
But he goes to pick up the letter, tapping the edge of it on the top of the glass, lips forming into a slight frown, exhaling quietly as he regards it. “This, however, is something at least.” A quiet sigh. “I went to Delphia to try and see if I could get the last words from her that everyone else got. Evidently I’m not ready. Because I’m not over Lusea yet. So she won’t tell me until I magically do.” His gaze remains on the letter, staring at it with a slight frown.
It smells wonderful, and he inhales deeply as he takes the glass – silver gaze focusing on the glass as she speaks, gaze flickering up toward her when she mentions she has something that she thinks Maea wants him to have. “Oh?” A quiet response, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a deep sip. As he sets the glass down, he spots the feather and the letter – the penmanship that he recognizes intimately, a churning of his gut as he moves to pick up the feather first, lifting it in the space between him and Weaver – steel flickering up toward her with some dark amusement. “This is mine.” He says quietly, extending the rather bare arm – free of ink for the time being and letting the navy feathers separate the space of his bronze hued arm.
But he goes to pick up the letter, tapping the edge of it on the top of the glass, lips forming into a slight frown, exhaling quietly as he regards it. “This, however, is something at least.” A quiet sigh. “I went to Delphia to try and see if I could get the last words from her that everyone else got. Evidently I’m not ready. Because I’m not over Lusea yet. So she won’t tell me until I magically do.” His gaze remains on the letter, staring at it with a slight frown.
you win a lot, and you lose
just a little bit more than you gained in the end
just a little bit more than you gained in the end
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.
