SuNJATA
the flood
“Oh, well then excuse me.” He teases her lightly, that small smile returning on the edge of his lips, tugging up briefly as she agrees. It would make things easier – and Sunjata’s learned quickly that he and Isla do work well together (that brief stint of running the Grounds with her as his second proved that for him, among everything else), and he’d learned he can’t quite do anything on his own these days (too terrified of a repeat of when his father tormented him).
So it’s settled, and as she tells him that he should get some sleep – lips parting to protest immediately when she brings up a good point. So he nods, giving the point up, though not without some childish petulant sigh. “I’ll try.” To sleep, that is. “And I’m quite good at building, but if we wanted to speed things up help would be required.” He offers before he stands, taking his mug to the sink and slipping away toward the bedroom.
He leaves the door open out of pure habit, curling up under warm blankets, and while it takes a lot of tossing and turning to get him asleep – he finally does, soft snores rising from the room enough that Isla might be able to hear. For a little bit at least.
It probably hasn’t been more than two hours and Sunjata’s grown restless again, tossing and turning, half curled in on himself, not quite awake but dreaming, living through a little nightmare again, warped and churned by his mind and the what ifs over the past couple of years. He wakes with a start, a cold sweat, long legs tucked against his chest with an arm wrapped around them, the other on top that he can bury his face into as he tries to catch his breath.
So it’s settled, and as she tells him that he should get some sleep – lips parting to protest immediately when she brings up a good point. So he nods, giving the point up, though not without some childish petulant sigh. “I’ll try.” To sleep, that is. “And I’m quite good at building, but if we wanted to speed things up help would be required.” He offers before he stands, taking his mug to the sink and slipping away toward the bedroom.
He leaves the door open out of pure habit, curling up under warm blankets, and while it takes a lot of tossing and turning to get him asleep – he finally does, soft snores rising from the room enough that Isla might be able to hear. For a little bit at least.
It probably hasn’t been more than two hours and Sunjata’s grown restless again, tossing and turning, half curled in on himself, not quite awake but dreaming, living through a little nightmare again, warped and churned by his mind and the what ifs over the past couple of years. He wakes with a start, a cold sweat, long legs tucked against his chest with an arm wrapped around them, the other on top that he can bury his face into as he tries to catch his breath.
love will save you, but it won't save me
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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.
