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
His eyes remain focused out the window the second he’s exhaled that first starting plume, though it doesn’t stop the dull glow of the cigarette’s cherry to bloom his face in hues of a sunset each time he takes a drag. He listens, though, to her and the roaring sea out the window, wings tucked in prim and proper despite the horns that suggest otherwise that spiral from his head. “Hmm,” he pauses, trying to figure out what else to add, curls of smoke wafting around his face as he half turns to her when he hears her move from the bed to join him.
“Might still be a little too much for me.” He admits, leaving the cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he lifts a hand to create a steam of water, glistening in the moonlight before it thins out and wraps around her arm with a surprising amount of hold for it being nothing more than water, as if he’s giving her arm a squeeze using nothing more than the magic Frey’s blessed him with. Magic he has barely used.
He moves the water away immediately when she notes the cigarette, letting the stream slip out the open window to drop below, not checking to see if there’s anyone out there before he does so. It’s just water, anyway, and he plucks the cigarette from his lips, exhaling smoke from his nose as he regards her again, letting a small smile bloom on the corner of his lips. “I know. It’s helpful in taking the edge off, though.” And he’s got nothing else that comes to mind that would help that other than this.
“Might still be a little too much for me.” He admits, leaving the cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he lifts a hand to create a steam of water, glistening in the moonlight before it thins out and wraps around her arm with a surprising amount of hold for it being nothing more than water, as if he’s giving her arm a squeeze using nothing more than the magic Frey’s blessed him with. Magic he has barely used.
He moves the water away immediately when she notes the cigarette, letting the stream slip out the open window to drop below, not checking to see if there’s anyone out there before he does so. It’s just water, anyway, and he plucks the cigarette from his lips, exhaling smoke from his nose as he regards her again, letting a small smile bloom on the corner of his lips. “I know. It’s helpful in taking the edge off, though.” And he’s got nothing else that comes to mind that would help that other than this.
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.
