SUNJATA
the flood
'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
He doesn’t know if there will be a time where Isla will end up reaching all the crevices of him – having closed himself off so much that after this most recent disaster for him, he shrugged it back on like an old coat. But her hand is warm as it graces along his jaw, his head tilting back with it, meeting those pebble blues with almost guarded ones of his own. And he doesn’t expect her words to hurt when they do, but it feels like that rusted knife that hasn’t left his chest starts to twist and turn again.
His brows pinch, even as the rest of his expression tries desperately to remain unphased in the face of being looked upon. And it remains that way when he finds his gravelly, accented voice returning to the open air between them. “I know I do.” He admits, stupidly. But he doesn’t know how to feel without the hurt. That to feel anything at all included the pain alongside it. To him, ever since he was a boy, the feelings were interchangeable. And it was the biggest part of why Shaju despised him so.
He felt too much. And it’s what guided him through his life up until this point, trying to appease those that he cared about in the hopes of keeping the pain away. And now? Now all he has are the scars he wears as proof that his life had never been kind to him, shoulders that scream with tension like a kicked dog incapable of remembering what safety even felt like.
Because for every high the Flood has had, the lows have been twice the size, and he hasn't found himself cresting above the waves in far too long.
"I think it's impossible." He whispers instead.
His brows pinch, even as the rest of his expression tries desperately to remain unphased in the face of being looked upon. And it remains that way when he finds his gravelly, accented voice returning to the open air between them. “I know I do.” He admits, stupidly. But he doesn’t know how to feel without the hurt. That to feel anything at all included the pain alongside it. To him, ever since he was a boy, the feelings were interchangeable. And it was the biggest part of why Shaju despised him so.
He felt too much. And it’s what guided him through his life up until this point, trying to appease those that he cared about in the hopes of keeping the pain away. And now? Now all he has are the scars he wears as proof that his life had never been kind to him, shoulders that scream with tension like a kicked dog incapable of remembering what safety even felt like.
Because for every high the Flood has had, the lows have been twice the size, and he hasn't found himself cresting above the waves in far too long.
"I think it's impossible." He whispers instead.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do
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.
