// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //
by the vicar and the company you keep //
She doesn’t know either. And that makes two of them. Sunjata’s attempts to cover himself in the water and finish cleaning up don’t keep her voice from registering, even after his have nearly cracked and broken. And it ignites a bit more of that lost sensation within him, those broken jagged pieces that begin to sharpen and push their points into his heart, into his lungs, wanting to freeze him up and leave nothing behind. So he withdraws from the water, shuts the shower off after he’s done, and reaches for that towel that Melita’s brought so he can dry off.
It ends up wrapped around his waist, his elbows eventually resting on the little half wall between them as he covers his face with both his hands, rubbing at his forehead as he tries to keep himself glued together just enough, just for her. “My idea, is someone who’s face changes every time I see him. Someone that nobody notices.” He offers her, quietly, sadly. It isn’t enough, he knows this, it’s why he hasn’t started doing anything about it.
He takes a deep sigh, pulling his hands from his face. “I can’t remember” – in fact, with the medicine he’s taking, his memory has fogged. He doesn’t remember the fake name Shaju had given the wedding. He doesn’t remember much of the finer details of what occurred. And it pains him. It’s evident in the way his shoulders are sloped, in the way he both feels and looks like he’ll crack apart. “I can’t remember anything anymore.” It’s a quieter admission, his frustration evident in the way he suddenly rises and moves to step past her into the dark of his bedroom, to get more room so he can follow through with the habit of letting the dragon wings out of his partial shift – still bound to heal and wrapped – in order for it to heal some more. One wing remains tucked tight, the other still droops, and he moves to perch onto the bed, to wrap the blankets around him so he can shut out the cold.
It ends up wrapped around his waist, his elbows eventually resting on the little half wall between them as he covers his face with both his hands, rubbing at his forehead as he tries to keep himself glued together just enough, just for her. “My idea, is someone who’s face changes every time I see him. Someone that nobody notices.” He offers her, quietly, sadly. It isn’t enough, he knows this, it’s why he hasn’t started doing anything about it.
He takes a deep sigh, pulling his hands from his face. “I can’t remember” – in fact, with the medicine he’s taking, his memory has fogged. He doesn’t remember the fake name Shaju had given the wedding. He doesn’t remember much of the finer details of what occurred. And it pains him. It’s evident in the way his shoulders are sloped, in the way he both feels and looks like he’ll crack apart. “I can’t remember anything anymore.” It’s a quieter admission, his frustration evident in the way he suddenly rises and moves to step past her into the dark of his bedroom, to get more room so he can follow through with the habit of letting the dragon wings out of his partial shift – still bound to heal and wrapped – in order for it to heal some more. One wing remains tucked tight, the other still droops, and he moves to perch onto the bed, to wrap the blankets around him so he can shut out the cold.
// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //
from consequence and everyone can tell //
SUNJATA
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.
