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
He recalls his words, realizing the mistake, and his jaw clenches with the barrage after. He admitted he didn’t think – too stubborn and headstrong to backtrack now. And he burns, brimming and glimmering with frustration and exhaustion and pain beneath the surface. Burns with the fact he’s tried to be so fucking careful since Nate’s attack, but it had weighed on him. It still does, the fact that nothing has come from it, that she could go out there and try it again and it was all done for protection before it backfired.
But it backfires, because of course it does. It’s him. And Nate does a fantastic job of pointing that out. His hands tighten around the countertop as Nate leans forward against the table that separates them, hissing internally at the implicates because yes it could have been done better. He knows this, he admits it in whatever roundabout way Sunjata has to in order to cope. He’d never wanted anyone to get hurt. But he’s too riled up to thing reasonably now, with the alcohol swirling in his gut – when was the last time he’d eaten?
“Someone. Sure.” He begins, tearing his hands away from the countertop for fear of claws poking out and stabbing through the wood. And all he can do is just clench his hands into fists now, working his jaw, staring at Nate. He can’t defend himself against it, knows it’s a moot point, and then suddenly, suddenly he’s shocked.
And he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know whether that fighting urge of the Korofian within him rears its head whether to let it or try to swallow it down. The arms spread by Nate, the exasperation in the words that are shot back at him. “No, no.” He begins, a shake of his head that tosses curls as feathers sprout in his anger along his shoulders, filling in tattoos. “I have tried to keep from getting involved. What am I supposed to do, Nate?" He asks suddenly, voice thicker with the accent now due to the alcohol and bitterness growing within him.
“Am I just to let it happen? Let some other person get attacked? Which – by the way, might I fucking add, isn’t as much of a secret as we thought it was.” He snaps suddenly, jaw clacking shut with an audible click as his heart thunders in his chest. “I guess we didn’t take into consideration the crowd, huh?”
But it backfires, because of course it does. It’s him. And Nate does a fantastic job of pointing that out. His hands tighten around the countertop as Nate leans forward against the table that separates them, hissing internally at the implicates because yes it could have been done better. He knows this, he admits it in whatever roundabout way Sunjata has to in order to cope. He’d never wanted anyone to get hurt. But he’s too riled up to thing reasonably now, with the alcohol swirling in his gut – when was the last time he’d eaten?
“Someone. Sure.” He begins, tearing his hands away from the countertop for fear of claws poking out and stabbing through the wood. And all he can do is just clench his hands into fists now, working his jaw, staring at Nate. He can’t defend himself against it, knows it’s a moot point, and then suddenly, suddenly he’s shocked.
And he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know whether that fighting urge of the Korofian within him rears its head whether to let it or try to swallow it down. The arms spread by Nate, the exasperation in the words that are shot back at him. “No, no.” He begins, a shake of his head that tosses curls as feathers sprout in his anger along his shoulders, filling in tattoos. “I have tried to keep from getting involved. What am I supposed to do, Nate?" He asks suddenly, voice thicker with the accent now due to the alcohol and bitterness growing within him.
“Am I just to let it happen? Let some other person get attacked? Which – by the way, might I fucking add, isn’t as much of a secret as we thought it was.” He snaps suddenly, jaw clacking shut with an audible click as his heart thunders in his chest. “I guess we didn’t take into consideration the crowd, huh?”
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.
