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
She stays, and that’s enough for him. At least until she steals a pillow and there’s a hint of a whine that slips from his throat as he watches her hoard it away in her lap like some sort of nesting dragon. “Fine.” He repeats, accented voice lilting slightly to mimic her ‘fine’ from earlier, before he goes on to explain the scars and tattoos. Her hand traces a line against them all, and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest.
She doesn’t comment on them either, and that makes it easier for him in the long run. He chooses to focus on her next as she turns and reveals her back, littered with scars and those raven tattoos. He fights himself from reaching out to trace them like she had his scars, and luckily for him her shirt is placed back down and she spins to him. “They’re done well.” He comments, offering a light smile, a hidden message that he’s sure they appreciate them from Mort’s realm or wherever they went.
But he’s reaching for her, now, pulling her up onto the couch with him, scooting back as far as he can to give her room. And she comes with him, settling and wriggling her way into his warmth, an arm slipping around her middle to her back and flattening along the small of it. “That‘s what everyone says.” He accuses her, flashing a wink before settling into the pillow that remains, scanning the lines of her face as the question leaves her lips.
And he chuckles lightly with it. “The horned thing, is a Nyala. It’s like a deer.” Only it wasn’t at all like a deer, he doesn’t know if she knows what gazelles are, but it’s easier to explain this way. “Here, I’ll show you.” He offers, tilting back a small amount and resting his hand at her hip if she lets him, focusing on her. The feathers appear, vibrant navy blue that almost look black in this light. “Macaw.”
Then the feathers disappear to make room for a thick coat of black spotted fur, claws at Weaver’s hip that are sharp and pointed that don’t dig in. “Panther.” All the fur disappears until his lower half becomes that of the whale shift, the fin sticking out over the edge of the arm rest. “Killer whale.” Which she may have seen before, in the sea of glass if they ventured into the colder waters to get seals and the like.
The half merman shift disappears to make room for the horns that sprout from his head, a rogue smirk crossing his face as he regards her. “The Nyala.” The horns stay, curled about the pillow, tipped in gold. “A cobra shift.” He pokes his tongue out at her, not surprised as he does so and the tongue itself is forked. And lastly, the skin of his arm and the space between where his hand rests at her hip and where his torso meet, is suddenly filled with a wing attached, a dark velvet membrane. “And a bat.”
She doesn’t comment on them either, and that makes it easier for him in the long run. He chooses to focus on her next as she turns and reveals her back, littered with scars and those raven tattoos. He fights himself from reaching out to trace them like she had his scars, and luckily for him her shirt is placed back down and she spins to him. “They’re done well.” He comments, offering a light smile, a hidden message that he’s sure they appreciate them from Mort’s realm or wherever they went.
But he’s reaching for her, now, pulling her up onto the couch with him, scooting back as far as he can to give her room. And she comes with him, settling and wriggling her way into his warmth, an arm slipping around her middle to her back and flattening along the small of it. “That‘s what everyone says.” He accuses her, flashing a wink before settling into the pillow that remains, scanning the lines of her face as the question leaves her lips.
And he chuckles lightly with it. “The horned thing, is a Nyala. It’s like a deer.” Only it wasn’t at all like a deer, he doesn’t know if she knows what gazelles are, but it’s easier to explain this way. “Here, I’ll show you.” He offers, tilting back a small amount and resting his hand at her hip if she lets him, focusing on her. The feathers appear, vibrant navy blue that almost look black in this light. “Macaw.”
Then the feathers disappear to make room for a thick coat of black spotted fur, claws at Weaver’s hip that are sharp and pointed that don’t dig in. “Panther.” All the fur disappears until his lower half becomes that of the whale shift, the fin sticking out over the edge of the arm rest. “Killer whale.” Which she may have seen before, in the sea of glass if they ventured into the colder waters to get seals and the like.
The half merman shift disappears to make room for the horns that sprout from his head, a rogue smirk crossing his face as he regards her. “The Nyala.” The horns stay, curled about the pillow, tipped in gold. “A cobra shift.” He pokes his tongue out at her, not surprised as he does so and the tongue itself is forked. And lastly, the skin of his arm and the space between where his hand rests at her hip and where his torso meet, is suddenly filled with a wing attached, a dark velvet membrane. “And a bat.”
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.
