SUNJATA
the flood
i can still see your face looking back through the flames
and i search it, was it worth it?
and i search it, was it worth it?
Nate’s recollection of the story of ice cream trucks sparks an easier smile to warm over Sunjata’s face. He tries to imagine it, a young Nate and his brother running out to buy ice cream from a truck of all things. And it works as a distraction, for a moment, until he’s pulling away with the comment of less fun. Nate departs his lap which is probably for the best, as the wings appear, feathered and tri colored, extra limbs that are right and not quite right all the same. He’s felt this before, with Aurelia, but he hadn’t known what it meant, what it was.
It looks bad, it has to, he knows this. He’s heard the echo every night since in the dark of the snap of the wing. There’s a spark of shooting pain sent down the bond in response to Nate’s squeak, though Sunjata tries to mask it through sheer stubbornness as he always had. His eyes open, peering the blue tinged wings, feeling Nate’s fingers run through the good wing that flexes its feathers while the other remains drooped, sad, broken. A winged horse. He explains, feeling for it again and the sensation of hooves come to mind, of wind and air, water and light.
“I know.” He murmurs softly, tucking the good wing in, turning his head to peer over his shoulder to look back at Nate, over the drooped wing. “I trust you.” He says softly, nudging through the bond to have Haai fetch some alcohol, sure he’d need it. “The jungles have these vines that can reach out and grab you, like they’re sentient but not. I was going through a spot to get to the sky again and thought it was bigger than it was.” A hasty yet hopefully believable explanation, Sunjata mentally preparing for Haai’s return with the alcohol and for the long process of Nate setting the wing. He’s sure it’ll take quite some time and quite a lot of agony.
It looks bad, it has to, he knows this. He’s heard the echo every night since in the dark of the snap of the wing. There’s a spark of shooting pain sent down the bond in response to Nate’s squeak, though Sunjata tries to mask it through sheer stubbornness as he always had. His eyes open, peering the blue tinged wings, feeling Nate’s fingers run through the good wing that flexes its feathers while the other remains drooped, sad, broken. A winged horse. He explains, feeling for it again and the sensation of hooves come to mind, of wind and air, water and light.
“I know.” He murmurs softly, tucking the good wing in, turning his head to peer over his shoulder to look back at Nate, over the drooped wing. “I trust you.” He says softly, nudging through the bond to have Haai fetch some alcohol, sure he’d need it. “The jungles have these vines that can reach out and grab you, like they’re sentient but not. I was going through a spot to get to the sky again and thought it was bigger than it was.” A hasty yet hopefully believable explanation, Sunjata mentally preparing for Haai’s return with the alcohol and for the long process of Nate setting the wing. He’s sure it’ll take quite some time and quite a lot of agony.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke
are you okay? should i go away?
are you okay? should i go away?
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.
