// it's not enough that you're wrestling yourself
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //
but your friends talk shit while you're going through hell //
A letter from Morgan, expecting Hotaru in the morning. It’s late when it’s received, but these days Sunjata’s sleeping is hit or miss. Some days he sleeps like the dead, others? He can’t quite bring himself to rest, not even with the comfort and help of Nate. So he’s awake when the letter arrives, awake when he ensures that Kamaria is to be taken care of, before he and Nate set off for the portal in the wee hours of dawn, the hues of pinks and golds that glimmer through the break of morning clouds.
It’s a beautiful day, yet all Sunjata can feel is apprehension, sorrow, anger, hurt. And it’s there that he finds himself standing beside Nate, hands shoved in his pockets, the slight darkening of his skin where the bruises sit as they begin to fade away, and the quiet simmering pinpricks of betrayal through the Attuned that Nate would feel despite how he dampens it. Hotaru, too, would feel it given how unaware he is of her change.
And so it’s that which has him quietly strewing, hands in his pockets clenching into fists, swallowing against the burn in his throat. And when she steps through, pausing to be found, Sunjata finds himself stilling more. Perhaps he had assumed she simply wouldn’t show, perhaps he had hoped she would arrive with Deimos whom he’d banned from his shores. Perhaps he’d hoped that it would be far more frustration and rage and anger in the face of seeing her.
But instead? Instead it’s bitterness, betrayal, hurt grown tenfold as he scans her, spies a bump that is unhidden, on full display, and part of him wonders if it had been her effort to move on from their lives just as they had tried to move on themselves.
He steps forward, unable to keep the dragon plates from appearing along his shoulders, perhaps some semblance of trying to protect himself from her, to protect against getting caught in her orbit once more. His trust is flimsy nowadays, and the Flood can’t afford to continue making his mistakes. And so he is guarded, shielding himself in the ways he knows how, gaze dark as he moves toward her — unable to bring himself to touch her, wondering if Nate can bring himself to instead.
“We need to talk.” It comes out deep, hoarse, aching in the way his throat is still raw — pained even more by seeing the state of her. And if she’s come this far to see them, he hopes she’ll continue to follow them to their destination.
It’s a beautiful day, yet all Sunjata can feel is apprehension, sorrow, anger, hurt. And it’s there that he finds himself standing beside Nate, hands shoved in his pockets, the slight darkening of his skin where the bruises sit as they begin to fade away, and the quiet simmering pinpricks of betrayal through the Attuned that Nate would feel despite how he dampens it. Hotaru, too, would feel it given how unaware he is of her change.
And so it’s that which has him quietly strewing, hands in his pockets clenching into fists, swallowing against the burn in his throat. And when she steps through, pausing to be found, Sunjata finds himself stilling more. Perhaps he had assumed she simply wouldn’t show, perhaps he had hoped she would arrive with Deimos whom he’d banned from his shores. Perhaps he’d hoped that it would be far more frustration and rage and anger in the face of seeing her.
But instead? Instead it’s bitterness, betrayal, hurt grown tenfold as he scans her, spies a bump that is unhidden, on full display, and part of him wonders if it had been her effort to move on from their lives just as they had tried to move on themselves.
He steps forward, unable to keep the dragon plates from appearing along his shoulders, perhaps some semblance of trying to protect himself from her, to protect against getting caught in her orbit once more. His trust is flimsy nowadays, and the Flood can’t afford to continue making his mistakes. And so he is guarded, shielding himself in the ways he knows how, gaze dark as he moves toward her — unable to bring himself to touch her, wondering if Nate can bring himself to instead.
“We need to talk.” It comes out deep, hoarse, aching in the way his throat is still raw — pained even more by seeing the state of her. And if she’s come this far to see them, he hopes she’ll continue to follow them to their destination.
// you said it feels like you're swimming through mercury
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //
and every night you think you're gonna die in your sleep //
SUNJATA
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.
