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 words ring true and yet all Sunjata can feel is the underlying thread of jealousy there. Just because there are others doesn’t mean that he wants to get lost in the abyss. Surely he’s just as disposable as the rest of them, nothing more than a soldier in her war. Nothing more than someone who had fathered one of her children, regardless of what Safrin said otherwise.
Perhaps that’s his Achilles heel. The fact that someone can praise him and tell him that he’s doing everything right and yet beneath it all sits the never ending thrum of anxiety that tells him it’s all a lie. It’s simultaneously too much and yet not enough to keep his mind away from feeling like he’s got to prove himself more. Perhaps that’s just the broken boy of Korofi managing to get a grip on him.
And so for the sake of some semblance of relief, he simply hums a quiet agreement, locking eyes with her the second his calloused fingertips slip beneath her shirt, the way he stutters with it before he continues. Weakly, he manages to clear the lump in his throat. “I feel like that’s what I was always meant to be.” He offers her quietly, briefly, before she’s turning her gaze away from him, before the weight of her head on his collarbone becomes more like a weighted blanket in its comfort, and the hand drawing idle designs into her back slows until it stops, his head tilting so his cheek rests atop her blonde crown of hair.
He’s not sure why but her words soothe him, his tension alleviates itself and he finds himself staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling again, a tightness slipping into his scarred throat as the world swims with the alcohol that burns within him. “Thank you, Ru.” He says quietly, meaning every word of it, his accent thicker and rougher in every single way. And internally he fights himself away from the urge of trying to distract himself from the reality of the situation he’s found himself in.
A bed. An Inn. His ex in his arms. His typical coping mechanisms. All of it he tries to parse and separate, tries to work through his sluggish mind.
Most of all, the thing that tones him down the most is thinking of what Nate would think. After everything. He doesn’t know what was shared between Nate and Hotaru, but he does know Hotaru named herself Queen in Halo and that Nate had shown up to get it back.
Aside from that, most of the ire had gone to Noah, a sentiment that Sunjata shared. But the rest?
He has no idea. And it stays his hand.
Perhaps that’s his Achilles heel. The fact that someone can praise him and tell him that he’s doing everything right and yet beneath it all sits the never ending thrum of anxiety that tells him it’s all a lie. It’s simultaneously too much and yet not enough to keep his mind away from feeling like he’s got to prove himself more. Perhaps that’s just the broken boy of Korofi managing to get a grip on him.
And so for the sake of some semblance of relief, he simply hums a quiet agreement, locking eyes with her the second his calloused fingertips slip beneath her shirt, the way he stutters with it before he continues. Weakly, he manages to clear the lump in his throat. “I feel like that’s what I was always meant to be.” He offers her quietly, briefly, before she’s turning her gaze away from him, before the weight of her head on his collarbone becomes more like a weighted blanket in its comfort, and the hand drawing idle designs into her back slows until it stops, his head tilting so his cheek rests atop her blonde crown of hair.
He’s not sure why but her words soothe him, his tension alleviates itself and he finds himself staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling again, a tightness slipping into his scarred throat as the world swims with the alcohol that burns within him. “Thank you, Ru.” He says quietly, meaning every word of it, his accent thicker and rougher in every single way. And internally he fights himself away from the urge of trying to distract himself from the reality of the situation he’s found himself in.
A bed. An Inn. His ex in his arms. His typical coping mechanisms. All of it he tries to parse and separate, tries to work through his sluggish mind.
Most of all, the thing that tones him down the most is thinking of what Nate would think. After everything. He doesn’t know what was shared between Nate and Hotaru, but he does know Hotaru named herself Queen in Halo and that Nate had shown up to get it back.
Aside from that, most of the ire had gone to Noah, a sentiment that Sunjata shared. But the rest?
He has no idea. And it stays his hand.
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.
