// the edge is getting closer, it's a long spiral down. it's so fun to fly 'til you hit the ground
i think i'm getting too close, i think i'm getting too close //
i think i'm getting too close, i think i'm getting too close //
Sunjata can’t seem to focus on her even as Edmund begins to grow uneasy. It’s exactly how Sunjata feels inside, a warping mesh of discomfort sinking deeper into his gut. A scarred hand rises to run through his hair before he’s gesturing to the door the shopkeeper had disappeared behind. “You didn’t correct him when he quite obviously just assumed.” Sunjata raises a brow her way but still focuses on anything else.
There’s a shake of his head, tugging at the broken and jagged scales of his dragon shift that spark along his neck and chest, a deep breath held in before it’s exhaled in a quiet and slow sigh. Her comment of blood on hands has him snorting, an unamused sound leaving him as he folds his arms across his chest and finally looks at her, stormy dark gaze lingering on the pale panes of her face. “There’s differences though, Maeve. Did you see that Trial I had where I killed my father?” He pauses, making sure that she had some inkling of what it was. “That was a rite of passage in Korofi. I had to do the same thing in a muddy pit filled with fourteen other boys to kill our way out of. And I was the one that made it out.” His head tilts avianlike, his gaze boring into her face.
“So believe me when I say that I am the last person he should be associated with. If you want to talk about blood on hands, I think you need to mention the buckets of it too.” It wasn't just about having blood on his hands, it was about the rivers of it he'd choked on for over a decade.
There’s a shake of his head, tugging at the broken and jagged scales of his dragon shift that spark along his neck and chest, a deep breath held in before it’s exhaled in a quiet and slow sigh. Her comment of blood on hands has him snorting, an unamused sound leaving him as he folds his arms across his chest and finally looks at her, stormy dark gaze lingering on the pale panes of her face. “There’s differences though, Maeve. Did you see that Trial I had where I killed my father?” He pauses, making sure that she had some inkling of what it was. “That was a rite of passage in Korofi. I had to do the same thing in a muddy pit filled with fourteen other boys to kill our way out of. And I was the one that made it out.” His head tilts avianlike, his gaze boring into her face.
“So believe me when I say that I am the last person he should be associated with. If you want to talk about blood on hands, I think you need to mention the buckets of it too.” It wasn't just about having blood on his hands, it was about the rivers of it he'd choked on for over a decade.
it's hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands
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.
