SuNJATA
the flood
“Feathered wings, a lion’s body, a scorpion tail.” Sunjata rumbles easily, if not distractedly – flickering through the memories he can remember of that odd and strange rendezvous on the beach. Something he sincerely hopes nobody else other than Ronin, Remi, and himself remember. But he shakes his head, pushes those thoughts aside, turning his gaze back to Wessex when he speaks of Delphia. And with Wessex’s comments on the demigod’s obsession over Ascended souls, Sunjata can’t help the slight snort that leaves him.
A sharp inhale reaches him, a huff of a laugh as an exhale. “She called me an incubus.” He offers, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug, a shake of his head as if he might be able to brush it off despite it being something that still continued to bother him. “And then shook me around from the inside. I don’t know what it would be like for you and the rest of the Ascended, I just know from personal experience that it’s pretty terrible.” He’s sure he was sick the rest of the night, come to think of it.
But silence draws over them, his amusement and worries shifting heavier onto the worried side, steel eyes focusing on Wessex and the implications. Nate’s safety was a priority, obviously, but he’d given his word to Wessex that he’d protect the Ascended. Not just the one. And he knows it’s likely not said to bristle him, but the governor bristles, muscles feathering in his jaw and clenching tight, the armored scales along his arms from his dragon shift appearing and shifting up his neck.
He knows it’s likely troublesome in the first place, given his closeness to Safrin, but… Sunjata’s made his choices. He’d taken the Voice’s cure. He married an Ascended and would do anything for him. But the look the Flood gives the Wraith, is leveled and sharp steel. “The Ascended that are in Torchline will be safe. And if something happens and they aren't," because let's face it, he can't be everywhere at once, "then whomever stepped out of line will pay for it, dearly.” His voice is surprisingly even despite the way the armored plates continue to shift down his arms, to the hands that shift to claws.
A sharp inhale reaches him, a huff of a laugh as an exhale. “She called me an incubus.” He offers, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug, a shake of his head as if he might be able to brush it off despite it being something that still continued to bother him. “And then shook me around from the inside. I don’t know what it would be like for you and the rest of the Ascended, I just know from personal experience that it’s pretty terrible.” He’s sure he was sick the rest of the night, come to think of it.
But silence draws over them, his amusement and worries shifting heavier onto the worried side, steel eyes focusing on Wessex and the implications. Nate’s safety was a priority, obviously, but he’d given his word to Wessex that he’d protect the Ascended. Not just the one. And he knows it’s likely not said to bristle him, but the governor bristles, muscles feathering in his jaw and clenching tight, the armored scales along his arms from his dragon shift appearing and shifting up his neck.
He knows it’s likely troublesome in the first place, given his closeness to Safrin, but… Sunjata’s made his choices. He’d taken the Voice’s cure. He married an Ascended and would do anything for him. But the look the Flood gives the Wraith, is leveled and sharp steel. “The Ascended that are in Torchline will be safe. And if something happens and they aren't," because let's face it, he can't be everywhere at once, "then whomever stepped out of line will pay for it, dearly.” His voice is surprisingly even despite the way the armored plates continue to shift down his arms, to the hands that shift to claws.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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.
