SUNJATA
the flood
A mean doctor would be terrible at their job. And Sunjata’s well familiar with them, having visited them quite a bit in his youth. But it’s the light at the end that keeps his head up high, the way that Ronin frowns when Sunjata admits that it’s wrong for him to be so soft, so caring, so gentle when his father was everything but.
He meets the Star’s eyes, the question lingering within. “He is mean.” Sunjata admits quietly, worrying at his lip briefly. “But he’s the Arbiter. He’s the one that makes the rules… He can’t break them because he makes them.” It seems reasonable. Not right, but the logic makes sense to the young boy’s head.
But with the sudden memory of Saartjie, the yawning pit of despair in the boy’s stomach, he bolts to the door unable to get through it. He’s scooped up, and he clings to Ronin again, looking up at a dark face and warm blue eyes, nodding his head as he tries to focus on doing just that. He shuts his eyes tight, the warmth of the cabin beginning to leach away as they step out the door and into a different lawn of sorts. One manicured, cleaned, barbed wire fencing surrounds the outside of it. And suddenly they’re at the doors, large ones that open inward to reveal the foyer.
Everything is white marble and two staircases lead up to the second floor from the main room. And where it should be a warm, loving home, everything is cold. Trophies and military badges sit along the walls, certificates and photographs of the long line of Senzaoks that had guided the country for generations.
Sunjata slips out of Ronin’s arms again, this time unafraid to reach for the Star’s hand. He guides Ronin up the marble staircase, past antique weapons and flowers that look as though they’re wilting, moving down a pale and lifeless corridor until he finds his door and Saartjie’s. He opens it, and it opens into another corridor of sorts, one side Sunjata’s room with nothing of his own, white walls and grey blankets, pale wood tables within.
He slips past it for another door, opening the pale wood until Saartjie’s room is in view. And this room, because women are precious and don’t have to go through the trials and retributions the young royal boys do, is filled with trinkets of her own. Her blankets are a vibrant royal purple, a few toys sprinkled here and there, and a mop of dark hair peeks up from beneath the blankets fast asleep. “Saar!” He calls out to her, reaching out to shake her shoulder gently to wake her. She’s three years younger than Sunjata at this point, three years old when his swim test took place, fast asleep.
He meets the Star’s eyes, the question lingering within. “He is mean.” Sunjata admits quietly, worrying at his lip briefly. “But he’s the Arbiter. He’s the one that makes the rules… He can’t break them because he makes them.” It seems reasonable. Not right, but the logic makes sense to the young boy’s head.
But with the sudden memory of Saartjie, the yawning pit of despair in the boy’s stomach, he bolts to the door unable to get through it. He’s scooped up, and he clings to Ronin again, looking up at a dark face and warm blue eyes, nodding his head as he tries to focus on doing just that. He shuts his eyes tight, the warmth of the cabin beginning to leach away as they step out the door and into a different lawn of sorts. One manicured, cleaned, barbed wire fencing surrounds the outside of it. And suddenly they’re at the doors, large ones that open inward to reveal the foyer.
Everything is white marble and two staircases lead up to the second floor from the main room. And where it should be a warm, loving home, everything is cold. Trophies and military badges sit along the walls, certificates and photographs of the long line of Senzaoks that had guided the country for generations.
Sunjata slips out of Ronin’s arms again, this time unafraid to reach for the Star’s hand. He guides Ronin up the marble staircase, past antique weapons and flowers that look as though they’re wilting, moving down a pale and lifeless corridor until he finds his door and Saartjie’s. He opens it, and it opens into another corridor of sorts, one side Sunjata’s room with nothing of his own, white walls and grey blankets, pale wood tables within.
He slips past it for another door, opening the pale wood until Saartjie’s room is in view. And this room, because women are precious and don’t have to go through the trials and retributions the young royal boys do, is filled with trinkets of her own. Her blankets are a vibrant royal purple, a few toys sprinkled here and there, and a mop of dark hair peeks up from beneath the blankets fast asleep. “Saar!” He calls out to her, reaching out to shake her shoulder gently to wake her. She’s three years younger than Sunjata at this point, three years old when his swim test took place, fast asleep.
i said i saw you in the water
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.
