if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy
The whisper is certainly one that Sunjata hears with the gilded earring in his ear – and it’s a question that he has no issue in answering. At least… Not from his stance. And maybe it’s a bit self centered, but he knows his husband. He knows that if Nate were to have to have a final blow on the Flood, that it would destroy whatever part of Nate was left. If only because it would do the exact same to himself if the roles were reversed. “I think so.” He murmurs softly. “Her goal is the Ascended’s survival, isn’t it? She would be agreeing to taking one opponent off the playing field for Nate to survive.” Of course, it’s all speculation, and Sunjata works his jaw in silence as he thinks on that subject more, feeling the dourness of the conversation start to turn his stomach in an uncomfortable way.
So it shifts, the conversation changing toward Frey and the fact the god hadn’t answered to their newest demigod in a time where he thought maybe it would have been imperative. And perhaps everyone had been right in assuming that Frey couldn’t show, not because they didn’t want to. “Honestly?” Sunjata begins, his head turning sharply toward Melita now, some sort of set determination through the storm clouds of his gaze. “I hope that’s it.” Because while he had faith, it had been rocked, and he’s worried of making the wrong choice yet again.
He fiddles with the bag a bit more until he notices the ones she’s tossed haphazardly, and he reaches down to grab the wayward ones to throw into the bag himself. “Why does all of this have to be so fucking complicated?” It comes out in a bit of a growl, his lip feathering with the scar as he heaves a sigh big enough his shoulders deflate with it.
So it shifts, the conversation changing toward Frey and the fact the god hadn’t answered to their newest demigod in a time where he thought maybe it would have been imperative. And perhaps everyone had been right in assuming that Frey couldn’t show, not because they didn’t want to. “Honestly?” Sunjata begins, his head turning sharply toward Melita now, some sort of set determination through the storm clouds of his gaze. “I hope that’s it.” Because while he had faith, it had been rocked, and he’s worried of making the wrong choice yet again.
He fiddles with the bag a bit more until he notices the ones she’s tossed haphazardly, and he reaches down to grab the wayward ones to throw into the bag himself. “Why does all of this have to be so fucking complicated?” It comes out in a bit of a growl, his lip feathering with the scar as he heaves a sigh big enough his shoulders deflate with it.
with wings that burn and boys who fall
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.
