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’s both good and bad. It’s good because Safrin’s there to look out for him, because she’s there to protect him as she’d always said she would. Bad, because if there was someone that wasn’t a fan of his husband and the fact Sunjata invited the Ascended in for protection, well… He’d become a spy the night Kamaria had been conceived. From there? Well, it was up to whomever decided whether it was good or bad.
Some days good, some days bad.
She moves on, though, pulling away from his shaky embrace as much as she wishes to – an arm still lingering on him – and despite the fact he can’t feel her rage as he might with the attuned bond, he can only guess it matches his just as much even if he dampens it. “I know, Aurelia.” He says with a sigh, aloud because he’s forgotten until his voice burns and his throat constricts around the words and he takes a sharp inhale after with an internal wince – trying to swallow down a fair amount of spit to try and soothe the jagged sensation of his lungs.
He draws silent, somewhat into himself as she goes on to explain what was twisted. And of course, it sparks something dreadful, something painful, Sunjata wondering if Aurelia’s right – that paranoid piece of him that’s inherited from his father only barks the orders back to him that it’s true. That he was a fool. That he had been played. Manipulated and told that it had all become his fault when she’d weaseled her way in despite knowing just how much he fucks things up constantly.
And what drives the nail in deeper? The fact he felt like he’d done everything right. They’d parted well, as well as he ever has with someone he loved. And here? Here he was, floundering, with a burned building and an attack on him.
And for what?
…No. He says quietly, having already made his mistake of speaking aloud. She said… She was already grown and she couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened. That she couldn’t be a mother to her. It’s grit out, even mentally, and Sunjata finds himself pulling away from Aurelia more fully – drawing tightly into himself, an arm wrapping around his middle as his eyes land back on Lusea’s lantern, melted and broken, not unlike his mind and his heart. That she wasn't a good enough woman to be able to forgive me, which is fine. Nate hasn't, even though he's come back. I don't... Get forgiveness for it. I've accepted that. We've moved on.
Fingers curl into his bicep from where it’s folded around his middle, and his gaze remains sharply on the lantern as if it might hold all the answers he seeks. I… I don’t know, Aurelia. He doesn’t know entirely what to do. He has ideas, but they feel so far away, so difficult. He needs Nate – that sharpened rage from the Ascended that guided him like the sharp snap of a bowstring were he to be the arrow.
Some days good, some days bad.
She moves on, though, pulling away from his shaky embrace as much as she wishes to – an arm still lingering on him – and despite the fact he can’t feel her rage as he might with the attuned bond, he can only guess it matches his just as much even if he dampens it. “I know, Aurelia.” He says with a sigh, aloud because he’s forgotten until his voice burns and his throat constricts around the words and he takes a sharp inhale after with an internal wince – trying to swallow down a fair amount of spit to try and soothe the jagged sensation of his lungs.
He draws silent, somewhat into himself as she goes on to explain what was twisted. And of course, it sparks something dreadful, something painful, Sunjata wondering if Aurelia’s right – that paranoid piece of him that’s inherited from his father only barks the orders back to him that it’s true. That he was a fool. That he had been played. Manipulated and told that it had all become his fault when she’d weaseled her way in despite knowing just how much he fucks things up constantly.
And what drives the nail in deeper? The fact he felt like he’d done everything right. They’d parted well, as well as he ever has with someone he loved. And here? Here he was, floundering, with a burned building and an attack on him.
And for what?
…No. He says quietly, having already made his mistake of speaking aloud. She said… She was already grown and she couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened. That she couldn’t be a mother to her. It’s grit out, even mentally, and Sunjata finds himself pulling away from Aurelia more fully – drawing tightly into himself, an arm wrapping around his middle as his eyes land back on Lusea’s lantern, melted and broken, not unlike his mind and his heart. That she wasn't a good enough woman to be able to forgive me, which is fine. Nate hasn't, even though he's come back. I don't... Get forgiveness for it. I've accepted that. We've moved on.
Fingers curl into his bicep from where it’s folded around his middle, and his gaze remains sharply on the lantern as if it might hold all the answers he seeks. I… I don’t know, Aurelia. He doesn’t know entirely what to do. He has ideas, but they feel so far away, so difficult. He needs Nate – that sharpened rage from the Ascended that guided him like the sharp snap of a bowstring were he to be the arrow.
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.
