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
A nod is given to Weaver in response to the answered question, already making mental plans to send some her way from the source in Torchline – an easy feat, he imagines, compared to everything else he’s had to try and get his hands on. A small flicker of a smile as he swallows down all the other thoughts crosses his face, lifting the glass to his lips as he nods. “They’re almost everywhere in Torchline.” He rumbles by another sort of answer.
But then she talks about Lusea, and he shifts a small amount almost uncomfortably. He reaches for the letter from Maea, to tuck it back into the envelope, before reaching into his pocket to pull out the pack of them he carries with him – letting Weaver take a cigarette of her own before he settles again and lets his gaze linger along the glass and debating whether or not the burning in his gut is good enough.
“I should give you a bit more backstory to Korofi for most of it to make sense, probably, hm?” He says with some exhausted amusement. “Promise not to make fun.” A wink granted to that before the glass is rolling between calloused hands and he focuses on the contents inside again. “In Korofi, there were different sectors. Like… Halo versus the Grounds and Torchline. Their own spaces, ‘ruled’ by separate people, but they all worked together for the full country against the neighbors of ours.” He pauses to see if it makes sense. “I came from the laws one. So we’d write the laws, enforce them, ensure that life was structured. My father was the Arbiter, which was basically the king of our little section. But in order to follow those footsteps of his, we had to fight for it. They’d train all the noble boys from a young age to learn how to fight and become this… Machine of sorts. And on our seventeenth birthday, they’d shove the noble boys and whomever from the lower class who could afford to, into a pit and told that the last person standing wins.” His gaze lifts to Weaver then, waiting to see if she has any questions before he continues.
But then she talks about Lusea, and he shifts a small amount almost uncomfortably. He reaches for the letter from Maea, to tuck it back into the envelope, before reaching into his pocket to pull out the pack of them he carries with him – letting Weaver take a cigarette of her own before he settles again and lets his gaze linger along the glass and debating whether or not the burning in his gut is good enough.
“I should give you a bit more backstory to Korofi for most of it to make sense, probably, hm?” He says with some exhausted amusement. “Promise not to make fun.” A wink granted to that before the glass is rolling between calloused hands and he focuses on the contents inside again. “In Korofi, there were different sectors. Like… Halo versus the Grounds and Torchline. Their own spaces, ‘ruled’ by separate people, but they all worked together for the full country against the neighbors of ours.” He pauses to see if it makes sense. “I came from the laws one. So we’d write the laws, enforce them, ensure that life was structured. My father was the Arbiter, which was basically the king of our little section. But in order to follow those footsteps of his, we had to fight for it. They’d train all the noble boys from a young age to learn how to fight and become this… Machine of sorts. And on our seventeenth birthday, they’d shove the noble boys and whomever from the lower class who could afford to, into a pit and told that the last person standing wins.” His gaze lifts to Weaver then, waiting to see if she has any questions before he continues.
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.
