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
Her voice is softer, gentler, but when she names the fact that Remi hates Safrin, it’s a fact Sunjata already knows. “It’s reciprocated.” He mutters against her skin, recalling his frustration and anger and sorrow at the fact that Remi had essentially killed him in a dream, and yet come away with nothing from it. Perhaps that’s a similar feeling that Hotaru had felt when Sunjata’d offered that betrayal, and yet it was Sunjata who had mentioned it to the starry goddess. That Safrin had suggested trapping the demigod somewhere beneath the ocean where he couldn’t rise again for some time, immortality be damned.
Though the Flood can’t tell if that’s Safrin pining after Ronin the most or the fact that Remi was a demigod of Ludo. And at this point? With their closeness and his own mind at odds with himself in pretending that nothing of the past year had happened? He doesn’t care. Even the thought of Remi, the fact that Hotaru bore his twins, doesn’t stir him much like it used to.
No, the name that stirs the discomfort of frustration and anger is Deimos. Hotaru would be able to feel the tinge of jealousy, however, that Safrin had chosen the Sword over himself, but he dampens it down with the way his jaw tightens, the way he quite literally and physically bites his tongue, teeth edged in sharp points that draw a few pinpricks of blood.
The only way I think it would be worth it is the immortality… But, He pauses in a feigned attempt to try and get his temper and pulse under control. What good is immortality when everyone else is gone? It’s a quieter admittance. That if he were immortal that he’d outlast his daughter. He’d outlast Nate if the war swings in a terrible way. He’d outlast everyone he knows aside from Remi and Ronin… Is that a future he wants?
Suddenly he shakes his head, loosening the way he clutches her to him like a lifeline, taking a deep breath before he forces himself to pull away, dragging her closer so she can rest against his chest and so that he can roll more onto his back, so that he might have the ceiling to stare up at. His tongue runs along his bottom lip, the brief scent of iron accompanying the alcohol and the slight tinge of red to the corner of his scarred lip. “It’s a losing battle on either side.” For him, especially, it feels like.
He feels lost in the middle of a tightrope while he's just missed his next step - tumbling down into a lot of nothingness, and it's a hollow feeling he unconsciously pulses down the bond.
Though the Flood can’t tell if that’s Safrin pining after Ronin the most or the fact that Remi was a demigod of Ludo. And at this point? With their closeness and his own mind at odds with himself in pretending that nothing of the past year had happened? He doesn’t care. Even the thought of Remi, the fact that Hotaru bore his twins, doesn’t stir him much like it used to.
No, the name that stirs the discomfort of frustration and anger is Deimos. Hotaru would be able to feel the tinge of jealousy, however, that Safrin had chosen the Sword over himself, but he dampens it down with the way his jaw tightens, the way he quite literally and physically bites his tongue, teeth edged in sharp points that draw a few pinpricks of blood.
The only way I think it would be worth it is the immortality… But, He pauses in a feigned attempt to try and get his temper and pulse under control. What good is immortality when everyone else is gone? It’s a quieter admittance. That if he were immortal that he’d outlast his daughter. He’d outlast Nate if the war swings in a terrible way. He’d outlast everyone he knows aside from Remi and Ronin… Is that a future he wants?
Suddenly he shakes his head, loosening the way he clutches her to him like a lifeline, taking a deep breath before he forces himself to pull away, dragging her closer so she can rest against his chest and so that he can roll more onto his back, so that he might have the ceiling to stare up at. His tongue runs along his bottom lip, the brief scent of iron accompanying the alcohol and the slight tinge of red to the corner of his scarred lip. “It’s a losing battle on either side.” For him, especially, it feels like.
He feels lost in the middle of a tightrope while he's just missed his next step - tumbling down into a lot of nothingness, and it's a hollow feeling he unconsciously pulses down the bond.
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.
