SUNJATA
the flood
you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
The conversation is easy to talk about – something else to focus on. And he latches on for dear life, to try and distract from the trembling and the pain. There’s a small huff that leaves him at the idea that Nate’s never been in a monsoon. “A lot of flooding.” He grits out at first, using it as a distraction enough that he doesn’t need to clench his jaw as tight. “Constant rain, lots of thunder and storms.” He manages, lifting his gaze to focus on Nate with a soft smile. “I was born during one, actually. Korofi had a rather large monsoon season.” Indeed, Nate might recall the conversation of flood waters once upon a time, might be able to put two and two together.
It manages to work well, however, the food kept down, the coffee handed and drunk, handed back to Nate to set on the side of the table and Sunjata quietly fears moving too much that he remains in place – listening to the Korofi that slips from Nate’s tongue – admiring and loving even more. “Beter, is nog steeds seer. He rumbles in return, letting his gaze flicker along Nate’s face, offering a small weak smile.
But his eyes watch instead as Nate reaches for the smokes and the lighter, a panging in the back of his mind, a need for the cigarette pining further once the suggestion hits. And really? Why not. Last time had been good as awkward as it had been, and there was nobody he trusted more than the man beside him, the one he’s marrying. “Seker.”
It manages to work well, however, the food kept down, the coffee handed and drunk, handed back to Nate to set on the side of the table and Sunjata quietly fears moving too much that he remains in place – listening to the Korofi that slips from Nate’s tongue – admiring and loving even more. “Beter, is nog steeds seer. He rumbles in return, letting his gaze flicker along Nate’s face, offering a small weak smile.
But his eyes watch instead as Nate reaches for the smokes and the lighter, a panging in the back of his mind, a need for the cigarette pining further once the suggestion hits. And really? Why not. Last time had been good as awkward as it had been, and there was nobody he trusted more than the man beside him, the one he’s marrying. “Seker.”
by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
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.
