SuNjATA
the flood
Her confidence in Gaal not casting her aside does bring a quiet sigh of understanding in the fuller aspect of things. That it was mostly because of her that Gaal had strove so far into their father’s territory that it became… Insane, wrong, horrible. So she explains further and his lips flatten into a frown, tugging at the scarring on the side of his face as he regards his sister. “His red hair would’ve transferred, I think. It did with Melita.” Perhaps it’s a cross between a warning and a comment, one that hopefully wouldn’t surprise her when Melita came rampaging home.
One that had surprised him when he’d gotten sick and lost his mind and actually thought the honeybee girl was her father, one he doubts she’s ever forgiven him for. But that’s neither here nor there, something the two of them still needed to work on.
Saartjie’s sigh when he asks about whether she could have children has him perking up, wishing he could pull back the conversation. But he watches her regardless, nodding along and when she sits beside him, his arm comes up to wrap around her shoulders just as they had done as children, and he rests his cheek against the top of her head. “So he didn’t know you purposefully did it?” He asks quietly.
The mention of Gazali has a hum leaving his throat, a brief flickering of a smile. “Ahhh. Gazali.” He hums gently as she continues, his head tilting to peer at her. “Aren’t you quite the little spy. I suppose you’re lucky he trusted you enough that he didn’t double check what they actually were.” He says softly, and when she reaches for his hand he offers it easily, squeezing her own back.
“The only ones that know what it means here are us.” He rumbles quietly. “And if you’re proud of it, Saar, then I am too.” His steel gaze is the softest it’s been in some time, something closer to his old boyish nature, before rebellions and wars, before trials and grief. "When the storms let up, we'll go flying. We can go to the beach like we used to. I might even be convinced to braid your hair for old times sake." A glimmer of mischief comes across his face, the hand around her shoulder rising to tug at the dark locks that match his own.
One that had surprised him when he’d gotten sick and lost his mind and actually thought the honeybee girl was her father, one he doubts she’s ever forgiven him for. But that’s neither here nor there, something the two of them still needed to work on.
Saartjie’s sigh when he asks about whether she could have children has him perking up, wishing he could pull back the conversation. But he watches her regardless, nodding along and when she sits beside him, his arm comes up to wrap around her shoulders just as they had done as children, and he rests his cheek against the top of her head. “So he didn’t know you purposefully did it?” He asks quietly.
The mention of Gazali has a hum leaving his throat, a brief flickering of a smile. “Ahhh. Gazali.” He hums gently as she continues, his head tilting to peer at her. “Aren’t you quite the little spy. I suppose you’re lucky he trusted you enough that he didn’t double check what they actually were.” He says softly, and when she reaches for his hand he offers it easily, squeezing her own back.
“The only ones that know what it means here are us.” He rumbles quietly. “And if you’re proud of it, Saar, then I am too.” His steel gaze is the softest it’s been in some time, something closer to his old boyish nature, before rebellions and wars, before trials and grief. "When the storms let up, we'll go flying. We can go to the beach like we used to. I might even be convinced to braid your hair for old times sake." A glimmer of mischief comes across his face, the hand around her shoulder rising to tug at the dark locks that match his own.
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.
