SUNJATA
the flood
but am i too late? or hearts to your spades,
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
He thinks, for a moment after Wessex’s down on the ground with him, that he might be able to shift again and take off – run through the undergrowth, to go and go and go. But his muscles are tense where he waits, stilled, but similar to a cornered beast. He wants out, he needs to get this out of him before he explodes with it, before it turns into a black hole within him and sends him spiraling down alongside it.
So he works his jaw, counts to ten. On the count of three he moves finally, pushing himself up into a sitting position, eyes no longer on Wessex as he stares off into the distance, the direction he’s pretty sure Nate was in. And on the count of seven, he’s managed to take a breath to try and clear the rage from his mind, though it still thrums in the heavy pulse of his heart, in the flush of anger to his skin.
“With or without?” He asks, his voice an odd combination of deadened yet confused. Was it the tower collapse that had done something to his body? Or something more malicious, something about leaving the Ascended’s body in Stormbreak that makes Sunjata’s skin crawl. It makes his mind pick up the mantra of how fucking dare they touch him. Followed shortly by;
He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine.
The words aren’t easy to swallow. The fact that he might not be able to get his body back, his head finally snapping to attention to look at Wessex, brows furrowed and a fire in his heart. “Watch me.” I want to see them try to keep him from me.
Belatedly, though, and perhaps a bit dumbly as he tries to catch up, his mind spinning a million miles a minute, he frowns deeply, lips twisting into an edge of a sneer. There’s the dawning realization that he’s not dead dead, but it doesn’t help when it feels like its an endless dark abyss.
Sure Nate had left when the Kamaria ordeal had happened. But he’d known Nate was fine. He’d known he needed time. Now, though? Now all he had was the shell of a body where his husband used to be.
And he isn’t okay with that. “How the fuck would we destroy it?” Why would I want to destroy it? “Am I supposed to just, be okay with this?” His voice is raising, unintentionally, the Flood losing grip with himself over the sudden onslaught of thoughts and fears and worries. “Because I'm sorry, but I'm not.” I need him.
So he works his jaw, counts to ten. On the count of three he moves finally, pushing himself up into a sitting position, eyes no longer on Wessex as he stares off into the distance, the direction he’s pretty sure Nate was in. And on the count of seven, he’s managed to take a breath to try and clear the rage from his mind, though it still thrums in the heavy pulse of his heart, in the flush of anger to his skin.
“With or without?” He asks, his voice an odd combination of deadened yet confused. Was it the tower collapse that had done something to his body? Or something more malicious, something about leaving the Ascended’s body in Stormbreak that makes Sunjata’s skin crawl. It makes his mind pick up the mantra of how fucking dare they touch him. Followed shortly by;
He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine.
The words aren’t easy to swallow. The fact that he might not be able to get his body back, his head finally snapping to attention to look at Wessex, brows furrowed and a fire in his heart. “Watch me.” I want to see them try to keep him from me.
Belatedly, though, and perhaps a bit dumbly as he tries to catch up, his mind spinning a million miles a minute, he frowns deeply, lips twisting into an edge of a sneer. There’s the dawning realization that he’s not dead dead, but it doesn’t help when it feels like its an endless dark abyss.
Sure Nate had left when the Kamaria ordeal had happened. But he’d known Nate was fine. He’d known he needed time. Now, though? Now all he had was the shell of a body where his husband used to be.
And he isn’t okay with that. “How the fuck would we destroy it?” Why would I want to destroy it? “Am I supposed to just, be okay with this?” His voice is raising, unintentionally, the Flood losing grip with himself over the sudden onslaught of thoughts and fears and worries. “Because I'm sorry, but I'm not.” I need him.
so we're not written in the stars,
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
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.
