if there's one thing the gods love, it's tragedy
The childish mumbles certainly bring amusement to his face, lingering in the lines of his crooked smile as he shows her the trajectory of the rock. When it comes down to it, though, he’s experienced because he’s been trained – he doesn’t begrudge her for it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right? So he watches, patiently, as she takes up another rock, then another, and another until the rock smacks the target exactly as he had hoped.
A bright grin breaks on his face as he steps toward her now, sharing in that delight and excitement. “There you go!” His accented voice rumbles in the start of praise. “I knew you could do it.” It’s easy praise for the young woman as he steps away to right the target again. “Practice makes perfect, though, and now that you’ve hit the target with a rock I thiiiink I recall mentioning we’d start with sticks.” He rights the target but flashes a wink over his shoulder toward her, before stepping away and giving an example this time.
With the water, he straightens it out in the form of what could be construed as a stick. “A stick is lighter than a rock, treat it like a dart or an arrow and aim higher. Let the wind carry it.” He doesn’t get much wind with his, given the fact it’s water but he still leads by example, sending the water over toward the target and completely missing when a gust of wind blows by. “Oh fucker.” He barks a laugh, but concedes to let her try.
A bright grin breaks on his face as he steps toward her now, sharing in that delight and excitement. “There you go!” His accented voice rumbles in the start of praise. “I knew you could do it.” It’s easy praise for the young woman as he steps away to right the target again. “Practice makes perfect, though, and now that you’ve hit the target with a rock I thiiiink I recall mentioning we’d start with sticks.” He rights the target but flashes a wink over his shoulder toward her, before stepping away and giving an example this time.
With the water, he straightens it out in the form of what could be construed as a stick. “A stick is lighter than a rock, treat it like a dart or an arrow and aim higher. Let the wind carry it.” He doesn’t get much wind with his, given the fact it’s water but he still leads by example, sending the water over toward the target and completely missing when a gust of wind blows by. “Oh fucker.” He barks a laugh, but concedes to let her try.
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.
