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
It’s the little things Weaver does that makes him appreciate her all the more. She can read the room, understand that he might need a few more moments of quiet and by himself to read the letter that Maea had left for him – to fiddle around with making a drink that didn’t nearly take as long to make as she made it out to be. And he tries to make it quick, to keep from shattering and breaking further out here in the public eye, out here where everyone can see.
But she returns, with the drink in hand, something light and clear and smelling somewhat citrusy with an almost licorice hint, and his gaze is immediately drawn to it as he peels his hands from his face. He inspects it, trying to distract himself and the shimmering webs within his soul that begin to spiderweb further and further out, trying to stop it before it’s too late. His gaze then focuses to the two shot glasses she pulls out, watching her pour some of the vodka he’d brought – another one of his favorites both in strength and ability to fuck you up.
He drags from the cigarette as he watches, remaining silent and unsure of what to say around the tightness of his throat, exhaling a plume of smoke as she hands it to him. “To Maea.” He manages, though it almost sounds choked out, tipping back the glass to swallow the liquor hard and fast. And when the glass reaches the table again, he spots the hand she offers out. He knew he liked her for a reason.
Easily, he hands it over, picking up the mixed drink now and sighing against the burn in his throat, the warmth spreading in his stomach. “You know…” He begins with a heavy sigh. “She was so excited about this place. I hope she can see the work you put into it, and the drinks.” He manages, trying to distract but keep on course – a delicate balancing act.
But she returns, with the drink in hand, something light and clear and smelling somewhat citrusy with an almost licorice hint, and his gaze is immediately drawn to it as he peels his hands from his face. He inspects it, trying to distract himself and the shimmering webs within his soul that begin to spiderweb further and further out, trying to stop it before it’s too late. His gaze then focuses to the two shot glasses she pulls out, watching her pour some of the vodka he’d brought – another one of his favorites both in strength and ability to fuck you up.
He drags from the cigarette as he watches, remaining silent and unsure of what to say around the tightness of his throat, exhaling a plume of smoke as she hands it to him. “To Maea.” He manages, though it almost sounds choked out, tipping back the glass to swallow the liquor hard and fast. And when the glass reaches the table again, he spots the hand she offers out. He knew he liked her for a reason.
Easily, he hands it over, picking up the mixed drink now and sighing against the burn in his throat, the warmth spreading in his stomach. “You know…” He begins with a heavy sigh. “She was so excited about this place. I hope she can see the work you put into it, and the drinks.” He manages, trying to distract but keep on course – a delicate balancing act.
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.
