SuNjATA
the flood
She says she remembers, and it’s a quiet remembrance, one that has Sunjata internally souring – a bitterness blossoming within his chest, within his stomach, something that turns everything around him cold. But his gaze lifts to her face when she says it wasn’t his fault, a frown finding his face, one that tugs at the scar along his cheek. And he nods, inhaling a slow breath as he swallows. “I wanted to.” He admits quietly, perhaps a bit ruefully. He wanted to fight them all. He wanted to kill those that had ever laid a hand on her while they were apprehended.
And he couldn’t. It was like a repeat of Lusea’s execution. And it had changed him internally – closed him off to everything and everyone for when he arrived here. Everything shut down, the fake persona of someone that had a good head on his shoulders, provided you didn’t look too long to see the illusion. “They’ve been trying to kill me for decades.” He admits with a sad smile Saar’s way. But then he’s mentioning their father and she’s standing, stepping back from the meal and he watches her with that animalistic tendency he slips into now and then with his attunement, stilling as her hands cup his face, tilting his head to get a better look at the scar.
“He kidnapped Nate. And I think he was drugging me for quite some time. Turned nearly all of Torchline against me.” He says quietly, lips pursing as she releases him. “So I challenged him to a Trial.” She would know what exactly that meant, and a shadow crosses his gaze with the memory. “I still couldn’t win hand to hand against him so I had to trick him. He…” A dark laugh leaves him as he shakes his head. “He told me he was proud of me before I dropped him off the cliffs.” He tilts his head back, peering up at his sister as he leans back in the chair, pushing away from breakfast to scan her face.
Of course they were still looking for him. He (with the help of Saar’s information) had ruined a lot of the things the Korofi nobles took for granted. But the mention of Gaal has him grimacing, lips forming a tight line, the armored plates of his dragon shift coming out from his skin, coating his neck and covering his shoulders and arms. “Good thing Graasvoel can’t find me now.” He mutters most of the sentence aside from Gaal's full name, one that comes out in a hiss, before a small frown crosses his face and he takes a steadying breath. “He has a daughter, did you know that? She’s here.”
Of course, he doesn't know that Saar had been married to the bastard of a man. He doesn't know all the things Gaal had done to her. All he knew is that someone's child shouldn't be blamed for the actions of their fathers.
Sunjata and Saartjie were products of such a notion.
And he couldn’t. It was like a repeat of Lusea’s execution. And it had changed him internally – closed him off to everything and everyone for when he arrived here. Everything shut down, the fake persona of someone that had a good head on his shoulders, provided you didn’t look too long to see the illusion. “They’ve been trying to kill me for decades.” He admits with a sad smile Saar’s way. But then he’s mentioning their father and she’s standing, stepping back from the meal and he watches her with that animalistic tendency he slips into now and then with his attunement, stilling as her hands cup his face, tilting his head to get a better look at the scar.
“He kidnapped Nate. And I think he was drugging me for quite some time. Turned nearly all of Torchline against me.” He says quietly, lips pursing as she releases him. “So I challenged him to a Trial.” She would know what exactly that meant, and a shadow crosses his gaze with the memory. “I still couldn’t win hand to hand against him so I had to trick him. He…” A dark laugh leaves him as he shakes his head. “He told me he was proud of me before I dropped him off the cliffs.” He tilts his head back, peering up at his sister as he leans back in the chair, pushing away from breakfast to scan her face.
Of course they were still looking for him. He (with the help of Saar’s information) had ruined a lot of the things the Korofi nobles took for granted. But the mention of Gaal has him grimacing, lips forming a tight line, the armored plates of his dragon shift coming out from his skin, coating his neck and covering his shoulders and arms. “Good thing Graasvoel can’t find me now.” He mutters most of the sentence aside from Gaal's full name, one that comes out in a hiss, before a small frown crosses his face and he takes a steadying breath. “He has a daughter, did you know that? She’s here.”
Of course, he doesn't know that Saar had been married to the bastard of a man. He doesn't know all the things Gaal had done to her. All he knew is that someone's child shouldn't be blamed for the actions of their fathers.
Sunjata and Saartjie were products of such a notion.
if i let go, would you hold on?
would we fly?
would we fly?
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.
