SUNJATA
the flood
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed
shake it out and light a cigarette
shake it out and light a cigarette
“I’ve been called a villain more than I can doubt.” He offers her with a rogue smirk. “A monster, a demon. An incubus apparently.” He admits, lip quirking briefly into a frown in distaste, in this predicament likely not something to say with the way things are going. But whether or not he believes it to be true (he doesn’t) it’s still something he’s been called. “In the end, I’m just me. Whom a lot of people have a vendetta against.” He offers instead, trying to lighten the mood again.
But his fingers are in her hair, watching the reaction it pulls, the way she arches into him. And he has to take a moment to focus again when she speaks in response to the forked tongue. “Mm well, I could always show you.” He contemplates, flashing her a playful grin before he’s stroking her hair once more before abandoning it when she mentions he hasn’t earned a Weaver approved stab wound, a curl of his lip to that. “I’m not afraid of a bit of blood.” The tone of his voice a bit rougher here again, a bit huskier.
And really, like Weaver, he should be letting her head home. He shouldn’t be inviting her into the mess and tangle of his life, even for a night. But he’s drunk, lonely, and it’s always been a form of coping for him, long before anyone else, before Lusea, before everything. So he shares his warmth with her, draping her in his wings and warmth, lips hovering at her neck as he fights to keep from indulging, humming a breathy, rough laugh against her neck. “It’s hard, you know. To think of the good things when everything turns to shit.” And for him, it was. Any plan of a future got nixed.
He stops planning, stops deciding. It’s easier that way, with far less disappointment.
“I’d take Caido over Korofi any day.” He murmurs, raising his hand to her hair again to try and ignite the same feeling as before, pulling her against him. “I’d take this night over the original one I had planned any day.” He replies, lips ghosting over her skin when he speaks before he swallows hard and pulls his head back to scan her face. The steel in his eyes smolder, darken with an unreadable gleam, unsure what exactly she wants out of this — knowing there are boundaries and unsure how far over the line he can step.
But gods how he wants to.
But his fingers are in her hair, watching the reaction it pulls, the way she arches into him. And he has to take a moment to focus again when she speaks in response to the forked tongue. “Mm well, I could always show you.” He contemplates, flashing her a playful grin before he’s stroking her hair once more before abandoning it when she mentions he hasn’t earned a Weaver approved stab wound, a curl of his lip to that. “I’m not afraid of a bit of blood.” The tone of his voice a bit rougher here again, a bit huskier.
And really, like Weaver, he should be letting her head home. He shouldn’t be inviting her into the mess and tangle of his life, even for a night. But he’s drunk, lonely, and it’s always been a form of coping for him, long before anyone else, before Lusea, before everything. So he shares his warmth with her, draping her in his wings and warmth, lips hovering at her neck as he fights to keep from indulging, humming a breathy, rough laugh against her neck. “It’s hard, you know. To think of the good things when everything turns to shit.” And for him, it was. Any plan of a future got nixed.
He stops planning, stops deciding. It’s easier that way, with far less disappointment.
“I’d take Caido over Korofi any day.” He murmurs, raising his hand to her hair again to try and ignite the same feeling as before, pulling her against him. “I’d take this night over the original one I had planned any day.” He replies, lips ghosting over her skin when he speaks before he swallows hard and pulls his head back to scan her face. The steel in his eyes smolder, darken with an unreadable gleam, unsure what exactly she wants out of this — knowing there are boundaries and unsure how far over the line he can step.
But gods how he wants to.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right
shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
