SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself
saving everybody else to save yourself
As they fold their arms over their robe, Sunjata’s head cocks slightly to hear the name – his gaze taking on an almost faraway look for a few seconds as he tries to place the name, taking a bit longer than he’d like before it registers. “Ah. I have, as it turns out.” He murmurs, before drawing silent again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other once his jar of water is tucked away safely. The information of Darkeye’s plans are quite useful he finds, files away a thought to speak to the dwarf the second he arrives back in the Grounds again.
“Hello Chaele.” His accented voice rumbles, elongating the vowels of their name. “I’m Sunjata.” Also called the Flood, the Failure, Frey’s Chosen and Safrin’s Betrayer. He inclines his horned head toward them regardless, drawing up again only to glance away when their question is aired. He begins to move now, slowly at first to keep them from running, moving to crouch beside the edge of the springs, to run a hand in it as he considers the best answer to their question.
“It’s a concession in a way. The only way to ensure everyone’s neutral. The Old God followers don’t trust the New God followers, nor do the New God followers trust the Old God followers, and both are welcome in the haven. And just because one’s powerless doesn’t mean that things are peaceful.” He muses, casting a glance up at them now, his eyes returning to the normal rounded pupils of his own instead of the slit pupils of his draconic shift. “I’m an Outlander. Where I came from there weren’t any such things as magic or shifting. No gods, nothing but humans. We still ended up tearing each other apart.” A scaled shoulder rises and falls in a shrug with a heavy sigh.
“Hello Chaele.” His accented voice rumbles, elongating the vowels of their name. “I’m Sunjata.” Also called the Flood, the Failure, Frey’s Chosen and Safrin’s Betrayer. He inclines his horned head toward them regardless, drawing up again only to glance away when their question is aired. He begins to move now, slowly at first to keep them from running, moving to crouch beside the edge of the springs, to run a hand in it as he considers the best answer to their question.
“It’s a concession in a way. The only way to ensure everyone’s neutral. The Old God followers don’t trust the New God followers, nor do the New God followers trust the Old God followers, and both are welcome in the haven. And just because one’s powerless doesn’t mean that things are peaceful.” He muses, casting a glance up at them now, his eyes returning to the normal rounded pupils of his own instead of the slit pupils of his draconic shift. “I’m an Outlander. Where I came from there weren’t any such things as magic or shifting. No gods, nothing but humans. We still ended up tearing each other apart.” A scaled shoulder rises and falls in a shrug with a heavy sigh.
and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell
that's the story to tell
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.
