SUNJATA
the flood
i'm suffocating the clock to keep you
i think like a saint, but swing like a thief
i think like a saint, but swing like a thief
He watches as people approach, a variety of those that lived in Haulani, a few sprinkled out closer to the cliffs, those that work in Kaiholo. He watches as they lay out the flowers along the base, his gaze slipping to Melita as she hangs around the back — not having it be the time or place for another conversation he can only imagine will blow up again. So he turns his attention to Vai, a small half smirk forming on his face. “It would, wouldn’t it?”
But when all is said and done and everyone’s hanging back again, it’s his cue to start he supposes. So into the lighthouse he goes, trekking the familiar stairwell until he reaches the shrine at the top, his tattoos she had gifted him with flickering and twinkling in the reflection of the candles still lit at the top.
Bowing his head, he begins, sure that those that wished to see her were still hanging around the back. “Safrin,” his voice is an easy rumble, an edge of hope laced throughout. “The canals are beautiful, and they have opened up so much of Torchline to the merfolk and added your brilliance of the stars to guide us through the night. It may be asking for a lot, but, with the monsoons coming in a couple of seasons I thought it might be worth seeing if you could help us?”
He pauses, his gaze flickering staring at the shrine, his mind forming his thoughts into words, something he’s never been particularly good at. “This past year we had spent much of the season preparing for their arrival and still had homes destroyed and people hurt. If we all come together to prepare for it like we had done with the canals, perhaps you could help us with protection from the monsoons throughout Haulani and the Port every monsoon season.” Another piece of Safrin to appreciate, worship, and thank for everything she’s done for them.
But when all is said and done and everyone’s hanging back again, it’s his cue to start he supposes. So into the lighthouse he goes, trekking the familiar stairwell until he reaches the shrine at the top, his tattoos she had gifted him with flickering and twinkling in the reflection of the candles still lit at the top.
Bowing his head, he begins, sure that those that wished to see her were still hanging around the back. “Safrin,” his voice is an easy rumble, an edge of hope laced throughout. “The canals are beautiful, and they have opened up so much of Torchline to the merfolk and added your brilliance of the stars to guide us through the night. It may be asking for a lot, but, with the monsoons coming in a couple of seasons I thought it might be worth seeing if you could help us?”
He pauses, his gaze flickering staring at the shrine, his mind forming his thoughts into words, something he’s never been particularly good at. “This past year we had spent much of the season preparing for their arrival and still had homes destroyed and people hurt. If we all come together to prepare for it like we had done with the canals, perhaps you could help us with protection from the monsoons throughout Haulani and the Port every monsoon season.” Another piece of Safrin to appreciate, worship, and thank for everything she’s done for them.
and inadvertently leading you
to believe i'm your prince
to believe i'm your prince
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.
