SuNJATA
the flood
There’s a point where Sunjata’s not sure if it’s his anger at the realization that Gideon had wrecked the shrine is his anger or his husband’s. But one thing is for certain, they’re both on the same page, even if Nate’s is sharper – more pointed, like barbs with jagged points that tear as well as pierce. He relishes in it this time, only because it isn’t directed at him.
But gods does it get worse. He moves for Gideon, clawed hand reaching out to try and latch on and pierce just as Nate’s essentially already done with gripping the Priest’s clothes. But it goes nowhere, because in an instant – one fucking instant, the Priest is gone.
Nate’s rage explodes and it nearly has Sunjata seeing red between his own anger at Gideon slipping through his fingers and the blinding rampage from his husband at his side.
His husband whips toward Harper and Sunjata’s only growing darker, angrier, plates aligning his skin until it’s covering his torso and he can’t stop the dragon wings from sprouting and curling – one coming up alongside Nate as if to tuck his husband in as he’s turned around. Fuck. Okay. He breathes through the bond, a tight sound that’s certainly not in a space to give a fucking speech.
They all stand there, atop the wall – Sunjata, some sort of gargoylesque position from where he peers down at his citizens. Nate’s words are uttered through the bond and Sunjata works his jaw, gaze narrowed and slit and sharp as he scans the crowd that’s formed. “Torchline,” it begins, grit out as he forces the words through his clenched and sharpened teeth, through a throat that burns as if his words are sandpaper, but he persists. “Your new Arbiter is right. These are delusions, given by those that are afraid and use it to try and get others to stoop to their level.” He pauses, wings flaring a fraction despite the tremble of rage that flickers through them.
“So I thank you.” His gaze drifts to Raza initially, before drifting to the rest of them. “For always looking out for your home and its best interests. Showing up and showing them that this will not be tolerated.” Because he’d been a bit late to the party, and Torchline had always showed up. Like they always do. “There will likely be more to come.” Given the war, given the bullshit around every fucking corner. “But we will never let someone treat us like we’re children being given a gift we should be thankful for.” His teeth click together with how hard he’s shut his jaw after – trying to quell that wildfire of fury within him. “They’re going to have to fucking try harder next time.” And the time after that, if there were one.
But gods does it get worse. He moves for Gideon, clawed hand reaching out to try and latch on and pierce just as Nate’s essentially already done with gripping the Priest’s clothes. But it goes nowhere, because in an instant – one fucking instant, the Priest is gone.
Nate’s rage explodes and it nearly has Sunjata seeing red between his own anger at Gideon slipping through his fingers and the blinding rampage from his husband at his side.
His husband whips toward Harper and Sunjata’s only growing darker, angrier, plates aligning his skin until it’s covering his torso and he can’t stop the dragon wings from sprouting and curling – one coming up alongside Nate as if to tuck his husband in as he’s turned around. Fuck. Okay. He breathes through the bond, a tight sound that’s certainly not in a space to give a fucking speech.
They all stand there, atop the wall – Sunjata, some sort of gargoylesque position from where he peers down at his citizens. Nate’s words are uttered through the bond and Sunjata works his jaw, gaze narrowed and slit and sharp as he scans the crowd that’s formed. “Torchline,” it begins, grit out as he forces the words through his clenched and sharpened teeth, through a throat that burns as if his words are sandpaper, but he persists. “Your new Arbiter is right. These are delusions, given by those that are afraid and use it to try and get others to stoop to their level.” He pauses, wings flaring a fraction despite the tremble of rage that flickers through them.
“So I thank you.” His gaze drifts to Raza initially, before drifting to the rest of them. “For always looking out for your home and its best interests. Showing up and showing them that this will not be tolerated.” Because he’d been a bit late to the party, and Torchline had always showed up. Like they always do. “There will likely be more to come.” Given the war, given the bullshit around every fucking corner. “But we will never let someone treat us like we’re children being given a gift we should be thankful for.” His teeth click together with how hard he’s shut his jaw after – trying to quell that wildfire of fury within him. “They’re going to have to fucking try harder next time.” And the time after that, if there were one.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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.
