SUNJATA
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
Like glass, and yet all Sunjata can imagine is breaking over and over and over again, pieced back together not in a beautiful mural like she tries to paint for him but instead like a brutal shattered piece, threaded together with tape and nothing more – one wrong move would send the rest of him tumbling down into pieces. But he doesn’t admit it, because she has a point in a way. He might feel broken, but he continues on.
That’s progress, right?
“Am I?” He taunts her as she fails to stand with ease, trying to ignore the feel of her hand on his throat, swallowing thickly when her hand leaves him and he stands to pay the tab and slip out, an arm coming around her and a wing hovering above her as they walk, keeping the rain from soaking her too much more.
“Hey, I think I’m okay when I’m sick.” He murmurs. “Though I think the last time I was… Was when the Climb Fever came around.” And they all were sick, lost in their heads, unable to pick apart anything from reality to fantasy. “I’m not intending to get sick again, though. Where, uh, where are you staying?” He asks, cocking his head down to her, walking in a bit of a staggered way – his hip bumping against her side as he tries to even himself out from having only one wing partially shifted out, throwing off his balance.
That’s progress, right?
“Am I?” He taunts her as she fails to stand with ease, trying to ignore the feel of her hand on his throat, swallowing thickly when her hand leaves him and he stands to pay the tab and slip out, an arm coming around her and a wing hovering above her as they walk, keeping the rain from soaking her too much more.
“Hey, I think I’m okay when I’m sick.” He murmurs. “Though I think the last time I was… Was when the Climb Fever came around.” And they all were sick, lost in their heads, unable to pick apart anything from reality to fantasy. “I’m not intending to get sick again, though. Where, uh, where are you staying?” He asks, cocking his head down to her, walking in a bit of a staggered way – his hip bumping against her side as he tries to even himself out from having only one wing partially shifted out, throwing off his balance.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
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.
