so you drink your day away till the liquor in your mouth laughs
Sunjata pours his weight into the wall that he grips when he hears Ronin’s surprise and sorrow continues to swell in his throat. But he doesn’t stop walking. The Flood manages to stagger in a bit further, toward the front desk. “Yeah.” Sunjata says, slurs, before he’s wincing against it. “The Voice said it was… The only way to get rid of what Safrin did to him.” He frowns, tearing open the barely clotted cut to his lip.
He sighs, though, into Ronin’s arm as it slips around him, pulled along to the examination room. His hand moves toward a drawer beside one of the beds, pulling out a mirror and a first aid kit, drawing his legs up underneath him to stare at his reflection in the mirror, to poke and prod gingerly to the cut to his eyebrow (right through that beautiful sculpted brow), to the cut at his lip. “I don’t know. Just… Away. To figure us out. He… Said he’d come back. To tell me in person if he wants to stay with me or not he just needed space.” And perhaps that was the crux of the problem for Sunjata, the uncertainty, the lingering hope that feels smaller and smaller the longer it goes on, the more the fractures grow and splinter.
“And Safrin? Safrin gave me a new tattoo.” He pauses to drop the mirror into his lap as his gaze lifts to Ronin’s face, pupils still blown quite a bit. “And she marked me. Inside. In here.” He reaches up to press against his chest. “I don’t know what it does. And I stupidly asked for it.”
He sighs, though, into Ronin’s arm as it slips around him, pulled along to the examination room. His hand moves toward a drawer beside one of the beds, pulling out a mirror and a first aid kit, drawing his legs up underneath him to stare at his reflection in the mirror, to poke and prod gingerly to the cut to his eyebrow (right through that beautiful sculpted brow), to the cut at his lip. “I don’t know. Just… Away. To figure us out. He… Said he’d come back. To tell me in person if he wants to stay with me or not he just needed space.” And perhaps that was the crux of the problem for Sunjata, the uncertainty, the lingering hope that feels smaller and smaller the longer it goes on, the more the fractures grow and splinter.
“And Safrin? Safrin gave me a new tattoo.” He pauses to drop the mirror into his lap as his gaze lifts to Ronin’s face, pupils still blown quite a bit. “And she marked me. Inside. In here.” He reaches up to press against his chest. “I don’t know what it does. And I stupidly asked for it.”
and the mirrors paint you beautiful like older photographs
but we grow, we grow old, even this won't last
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.
