SUNJATA
the flood
but am i too late? or hearts to your spades,
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
Heaving breaths try to ground him, but it hardly works as he checks for blood and finds none there, as he buries his face, rubs at the scar on his cheek, as he pinches the bridge of his nose. None of these work, and even as Maeve approaches, with soft words and the way she drapes herself, she’ll find him trembling in a way. Her words sound almost distant, and he wonders if it’s actually happened, before she’s moving around toward his front, her hands wrapping around his wrists, and he exhales a shuddering breath.
But gods is he stubborn. Her fingers move along his arms the scales begin to retract, only to be replaced with the dragon scales, sharper edged and thicker, as if it might ward her away. He focuses on his breathing, on closing himself off, but he realizes he can’t quite do that, not like this, so he finally lifts his head, his dark steel looking at her and noticing that it was still early, the sun hadn’t even begun its ascent, and Sunjata shakes his head as he works his jaw.
He shakes his head again before he’s pulling out of her grip, nearly scrambling to get out of the makeshift bed of blankets, before he’s able to feel the cold floor against his legs, against his feet, and he nearly ignores everything and all things as he shifts to his panther shift, ears pinched to his skull, before he’s darting over to the kitchen, turning back into himself almost upon immediately hitting the floor in there. He runs some water in the sink, splashes some on his face to try and use it as a distraction to keep the nausea at bay, before he’s hunching over the sink and letting his hands scrub at his face. "I'm sorry." He manages to croak out, burying his face into his elbow after a long, excruciating moment.
But gods is he stubborn. Her fingers move along his arms the scales begin to retract, only to be replaced with the dragon scales, sharper edged and thicker, as if it might ward her away. He focuses on his breathing, on closing himself off, but he realizes he can’t quite do that, not like this, so he finally lifts his head, his dark steel looking at her and noticing that it was still early, the sun hadn’t even begun its ascent, and Sunjata shakes his head as he works his jaw.
He shakes his head again before he’s pulling out of her grip, nearly scrambling to get out of the makeshift bed of blankets, before he’s able to feel the cold floor against his legs, against his feet, and he nearly ignores everything and all things as he shifts to his panther shift, ears pinched to his skull, before he’s darting over to the kitchen, turning back into himself almost upon immediately hitting the floor in there. He runs some water in the sink, splashes some on his face to try and use it as a distraction to keep the nausea at bay, before he’s hunching over the sink and letting his hands scrub at his face. "I'm sorry." He manages to croak out, burying his face into his elbow after a long, excruciating moment.
so we're not written in the stars,
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
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.
