SUNJATA
look who's digging their own grave
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death
this is what they all say; you'll drink yourself to death
If he had the hands, he’d have applied a warm one to the back of the Remedy – to steady or offer some share of support – because Sunjata had no idea what the option was at Stormbreak until it was over and he realized swiftly after that it was a tough choice, one that rested solely on Isla’s shoulders. But he has his husband in his arms, one flecked with lightning scars and the other nearly blacked out by the wave tattoos that spiral up to his bicep, hiding beneath the feathers that haven’t been burned away by Caido thus far.
Much to his surprise, however, the Voice arrives. And with it, the feeling of static, like being too close to a 90s television that sets his teeth on edge, but he swallows it down just as he has with everything else that spurs him in discomfort. He swallows it down to view the Voice officially, to meet her face to face as she speaks to Isla first, finding some comfort in the words that leave the New Goddess.
It’s almost enough to jar him from what he wants to ask her, especially when her slow smile crosses her face and her attention is abruptly onto him. “I…” He stammers, takes a steadying breath, stands up a little straighter that has Nate’s head lolling onto his shoulder a bit more. “It’s mostly only ever been Safrin who’s given me difficulties.” He admits, opting for a bit of a jest to hopefully calm his nerves. “But, I’m glad to help.” At the end of the day he certainly imagines it’s the thing he’s been made for. (Rebellions for the underdogs from the other side, striking a particular chord perhaps?)
But the Flood clears his throat, his smile fading as the seriousness of the situation overcomes him and he moves to tug a bit of the blanket away from Nate’s face, revealing him to her. “I’m not sure how much you were able to see of him.” How much you’re connected, how you’ve been able to watch over your bright ones. “But, Ronin took his eye. I know it’ll be the third time he’ll have to suffer through getting his vision completely back. And, well, you know him. I can’t imagine he’ll be happy to wake up with it incomplete.” He pauses, the mixture of fury at the Huntsman paired with the fierce love, protection, and support he has for the demigod in his arms melding into something that calms his nerves. “I guess my first question is if it’s something that I, and Isla if she’s willing to, could quest for him so that he won’t have to when he comes back?”
Hopeful steel lifts to the Voice and he waits, for either an acceptance or a denial, before trying to figure out how to start the further questioning he has, wondering whether it’s something he should have spoken with Isla about before this point.
Much to his surprise, however, the Voice arrives. And with it, the feeling of static, like being too close to a 90s television that sets his teeth on edge, but he swallows it down just as he has with everything else that spurs him in discomfort. He swallows it down to view the Voice officially, to meet her face to face as she speaks to Isla first, finding some comfort in the words that leave the New Goddess.
It’s almost enough to jar him from what he wants to ask her, especially when her slow smile crosses her face and her attention is abruptly onto him. “I…” He stammers, takes a steadying breath, stands up a little straighter that has Nate’s head lolling onto his shoulder a bit more. “It’s mostly only ever been Safrin who’s given me difficulties.” He admits, opting for a bit of a jest to hopefully calm his nerves. “But, I’m glad to help.” At the end of the day he certainly imagines it’s the thing he’s been made for. (Rebellions for the underdogs from the other side, striking a particular chord perhaps?)
But the Flood clears his throat, his smile fading as the seriousness of the situation overcomes him and he moves to tug a bit of the blanket away from Nate’s face, revealing him to her. “I’m not sure how much you were able to see of him.” How much you’re connected, how you’ve been able to watch over your bright ones. “But, Ronin took his eye. I know it’ll be the third time he’ll have to suffer through getting his vision completely back. And, well, you know him. I can’t imagine he’ll be happy to wake up with it incomplete.” He pauses, the mixture of fury at the Huntsman paired with the fierce love, protection, and support he has for the demigod in his arms melding into something that calms his nerves. “I guess my first question is if it’s something that I, and Isla if she’s willing to, could quest for him so that he won’t have to when he comes back?”
Hopeful steel lifts to the Voice and he waits, for either an acceptance or a denial, before trying to figure out how to start the further questioning he has, wondering whether it’s something he should have spoken with Isla about before this point.
look who makes their own bed, lies right down within it
and what will you have left?
and what will you have left?
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.
