leaving well enough alone is no choice of yours to make
guilty says the proof, this town has no room for you
A crowd forms, because of course it does. He’d advertised it on the Notice Board. It’s a show, just as all the other Trials had been. It’s a show, just as his father preferred. He casts a glance as they arrive, spying Ronin first and offering a nod of his head, the briefest twitch of a smile to Adam’s beginning call that’s followed up by others. And he breathes a sigh of both annoyance and content – content at the fact that they believe in him – annoyed at how similar to Korofi it’s become.
Hotaru is there, Melita, Wessex, Zephyr, Jack, and he holds his breath as the rain begins to fall, pelting against his skin. Dawn arrives, and with it, the time for the battle. He sees the brief shape of Kane over the edge of the cliffs, paired with others, but it isn’t the lackeys that distract him. No. It’s Nate. Just as he’d thought. His heart lurches, it sticks in his throat. It’s a perfect distraction, of course, taking one step forward with dark eyes of shadow and sorrow, Nate’s name swallowed down hard in his throat when his husband stills from seeing him.
There’s a muzzle among the rest of the wounds and brutality, the fluid and shiny scars. But he was alive, and that for now is all he needed to know. “Hotaru, Melita.” He finally manages to rumble, looking back to the crowd briefly for the blonde and the red-head, sure that the hand-off would happen while he focuses on his father. Speaking of which, as he looks back to Shaju, the ring is gone, the resemblance clear for all those gathered to see. That similar jawline, those eyes, similarly tall but built like a truck, and Sunjata swallows hard against the red of rage he sees. The comparison between the two of them would be evident.
The blade is drawn from Shaju’s belt, Sunjata’s already got his in his hand, his jaw set hard and he tries to even out his breathing. He knew it would throw him off balance, seeing Nate this way, seeing his father fully there. But he can’t still, he can’t give in now. Still, he can’t speak, his throat too tight, unsure of what he’d even say, because gods knew he wasn’t good at words.
He makes the first move, because of course he does, shifting that blade to angle down and launches himself at his father, blade drawn, searching for whatever spot he can get to close the distance.
Hotaru is there, Melita, Wessex, Zephyr, Jack, and he holds his breath as the rain begins to fall, pelting against his skin. Dawn arrives, and with it, the time for the battle. He sees the brief shape of Kane over the edge of the cliffs, paired with others, but it isn’t the lackeys that distract him. No. It’s Nate. Just as he’d thought. His heart lurches, it sticks in his throat. It’s a perfect distraction, of course, taking one step forward with dark eyes of shadow and sorrow, Nate’s name swallowed down hard in his throat when his husband stills from seeing him.
There’s a muzzle among the rest of the wounds and brutality, the fluid and shiny scars. But he was alive, and that for now is all he needed to know. “Hotaru, Melita.” He finally manages to rumble, looking back to the crowd briefly for the blonde and the red-head, sure that the hand-off would happen while he focuses on his father. Speaking of which, as he looks back to Shaju, the ring is gone, the resemblance clear for all those gathered to see. That similar jawline, those eyes, similarly tall but built like a truck, and Sunjata swallows hard against the red of rage he sees. The comparison between the two of them would be evident.
The blade is drawn from Shaju’s belt, Sunjata’s already got his in his hand, his jaw set hard and he tries to even out his breathing. He knew it would throw him off balance, seeing Nate this way, seeing his father fully there. But he can’t still, he can’t give in now. Still, he can’t speak, his throat too tight, unsure of what he’d even say, because gods knew he wasn’t good at words.
He makes the first move, because of course he does, shifting that blade to angle down and launches himself at his father, blade drawn, searching for whatever spot he can get to close the distance.
so look out, i fear they follow near
from the gallows you'll swing for all the kids to see
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.
