SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself
saving everybody else to save yourself
Change doesn’t come from hope. He knows that. He knows all of that. And yet it becomes difficult for Sunjata to be able to break it apart in a way that’s planned, managed, easier to swallow rather than gut instincts and impulse. Perhaps it’s due to the fact he never tended to look too far in the future, sure of how uncertain it was, how it could be taken away by an easy wave of a hand. As if the man before him couldn’t do it as easily as that, either.
Muscles feather in his jaw as he tears his gaze away from Deimos to stare at something on the wall, to avoid looking directly at him when the words fall from his lips. He distinctly remembers getting an air of something fatherly once upon a time from Deimos, but he had never expected those words to sound so much like Shaju’s own. It’s enough to draw him silent rather than to lash out, to pull into himself as he chews at the inside of his ruined cheek. He wants to say something witty, something to avoid the bluntness of Deimos’ words, but nothing come to mind.
So he takes it, stuffs it away in that part of him where his father’s reprimands have hit home hard and how he’d strove to simply survive versus becoming something that made sense. Because none of this did, really. But he was trying, whether or not anyone believed he was capable of such. He tries. And for the most part it’s done with good intentions, even if it falls flat and goes wrong most of the time.
His version of events? He spins the glass slightly in his hand, works his jaw as he stares at the liquid within that he hasn’t touched yet. “Safrin called me to her, to talk about the war.” He says at first, keeping his gaze averted, keeping himself together the best he can. “I wanted to stay out of it but we both know that won’t happen. So. I told her I wouldn’t hurt Nate, that I couldn’t. And I told her my fears of what would happen to him should the Voice be destroyed.” He shakes his head, the lines of his face deepening with the frown that overtakes it.
“So we bargained. The only way to try and ensure Nate’s safety was with me proving I could take care of another life.” The child. “I did not know that Nate would return as a Voice demigod. And I know I should have talked with him and Hotaru before, but I was worried that if I left the conversation there… That it would end.” That there’d be no chance of saving him.
He stares at the ceiling for a brief moment before his gaze finally turns back to Deimos. “And now both Hotaru and Nate have left and I have a five year old to care for. I don’t blame them and I understand why they did. And I understand the line I crossed, intimately well, but what’s done is done.” It isn’t an attempt to gain pity, just a statement of the facts. They had left him, for however long in Nate’s case, and he was raising a child born to the stars.
Muscles feather in his jaw as he tears his gaze away from Deimos to stare at something on the wall, to avoid looking directly at him when the words fall from his lips. He distinctly remembers getting an air of something fatherly once upon a time from Deimos, but he had never expected those words to sound so much like Shaju’s own. It’s enough to draw him silent rather than to lash out, to pull into himself as he chews at the inside of his ruined cheek. He wants to say something witty, something to avoid the bluntness of Deimos’ words, but nothing come to mind.
So he takes it, stuffs it away in that part of him where his father’s reprimands have hit home hard and how he’d strove to simply survive versus becoming something that made sense. Because none of this did, really. But he was trying, whether or not anyone believed he was capable of such. He tries. And for the most part it’s done with good intentions, even if it falls flat and goes wrong most of the time.
His version of events? He spins the glass slightly in his hand, works his jaw as he stares at the liquid within that he hasn’t touched yet. “Safrin called me to her, to talk about the war.” He says at first, keeping his gaze averted, keeping himself together the best he can. “I wanted to stay out of it but we both know that won’t happen. So. I told her I wouldn’t hurt Nate, that I couldn’t. And I told her my fears of what would happen to him should the Voice be destroyed.” He shakes his head, the lines of his face deepening with the frown that overtakes it.
“So we bargained. The only way to try and ensure Nate’s safety was with me proving I could take care of another life.” The child. “I did not know that Nate would return as a Voice demigod. And I know I should have talked with him and Hotaru before, but I was worried that if I left the conversation there… That it would end.” That there’d be no chance of saving him.
He stares at the ceiling for a brief moment before his gaze finally turns back to Deimos. “And now both Hotaru and Nate have left and I have a five year old to care for. I don’t blame them and I understand why they did. And I understand the line I crossed, intimately well, but what’s done is done.” It isn’t an attempt to gain pity, just a statement of the facts. They had left him, for however long in Nate’s case, and he was raising a child born to the stars.
and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell
that's the story to tell
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.
