SUNJATA
the flood
you killed a man there, and i cried
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
but the rain masked the hurt behind your face
It does. Sunjata agrees swiftly, some sort of hint of a thankfulness that crosses the bond toward her before he begins his next statement. I’m lucky you’re Attuned now and I can talk like this. There’s a brief ghosting of a smile that curls one corner of his lip, before it disappears and he’s inhaling a soft sigh, waiting until she climbs up onto his shoulders, so that his hand might lift to run through her red and black pelt. I’m glad too. He murmurs a bit offhandedly, before he dives completely into everything.
Her curiosity isn’t gone unnoticed, Sunjata acutely feeling and watching from his peripheral at the way her head tilts, despite how the Flood begins to walk, heading toward the stairs that led to his office, with a door at the back that no longer existed and stairs that carved upwards from there. It was a secret guild. Called the Devil's Advocates. He comments, as if it explains why she hadn’t known – not for her lack of finding out, but because it had been intentionally kept quiet.
As for what she did? He nods, lifting a piece of broken wood to inspect the stairs, trying to see if it’s sturdy enough to handle their weight to see what the damage is. It is, despite the way it groans, and Sunjata tries to keep to the sturdiest spaces. I do. He offers quietly, keeping a hand up on her for support as is comfort. I can’t… Presume to understand, but I know that you did what you thought was best. He can’t understand it, but his rage and sense betrayal over what Hotaru and Deimos did outweigh the loss of a companion.
Casualties of war, he supposes.
I don’t understand why they did it. Hotaru and I parted on good terms. We promised that despite everything we’d show up if either of us needed one another. And… To turn around and do this? There’s a sense of broken sorrow that overcomes him – of yet another time where he thinks he’s done everything right only to have it go wrong. Again.
But it’s nothing compared to the glint of silver among the rubble, through the room on the side that had been used during a time where Sunjata and Nate didn’t have a home. It had become their temporary space, just as it had been their temporary space back in the Grounds when they’d first hitched up more consistently.
The glint of silver, though?
It’s a lantern. But not just any lantern. It’s Lusea’s lantern, broken and destroyed, burnt and warped, and despite how he tries to tamper it down on the bond, there’s a sudden sharp horror and sadness that coats it like oil, a burning sensation that pricks at his eyes that he tries to desperately to blink away, turning his head away from where Aurelia’s perched despite it all as he picks up the remains.
Her curiosity isn’t gone unnoticed, Sunjata acutely feeling and watching from his peripheral at the way her head tilts, despite how the Flood begins to walk, heading toward the stairs that led to his office, with a door at the back that no longer existed and stairs that carved upwards from there. It was a secret guild. Called the Devil's Advocates. He comments, as if it explains why she hadn’t known – not for her lack of finding out, but because it had been intentionally kept quiet.
As for what she did? He nods, lifting a piece of broken wood to inspect the stairs, trying to see if it’s sturdy enough to handle their weight to see what the damage is. It is, despite the way it groans, and Sunjata tries to keep to the sturdiest spaces. I do. He offers quietly, keeping a hand up on her for support as is comfort. I can’t… Presume to understand, but I know that you did what you thought was best. He can’t understand it, but his rage and sense betrayal over what Hotaru and Deimos did outweigh the loss of a companion.
Casualties of war, he supposes.
I don’t understand why they did it. Hotaru and I parted on good terms. We promised that despite everything we’d show up if either of us needed one another. And… To turn around and do this? There’s a sense of broken sorrow that overcomes him – of yet another time where he thinks he’s done everything right only to have it go wrong. Again.
But it’s nothing compared to the glint of silver among the rubble, through the room on the side that had been used during a time where Sunjata and Nate didn’t have a home. It had become their temporary space, just as it had been their temporary space back in the Grounds when they’d first hitched up more consistently.
The glint of silver, though?
It’s a lantern. But not just any lantern. It’s Lusea’s lantern, broken and destroyed, burnt and warped, and despite how he tries to tamper it down on the bond, there’s a sudden sharp horror and sadness that coats it like oil, a burning sensation that pricks at his eyes that he tries to desperately to blink away, turning his head away from where Aurelia’s perched despite it all as he picks up the remains.
by the way, dear, we're alive
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
and it hurts 'cause we survived it
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.
