// grass stains cut my bloody knees, it's goodpain, it means i can't be phased
that little death inside my sides, won't make it right //
that little death inside my sides, won't make it right //
He doesn’t want to deal with this, he doesn’t want that hole to be filled with some new precious life that already has taken on the characteristics of Haai. It feels like he’s replacing the griffin with something new, like he’s forgotten her. He knows it’s unrealistic, knows that it’s not his fault, knows that he should probably start to move on – it’s been years, after all – but Sunjata’s heart and attachments can only take so much.
The space the sea panther sits in Sunjata’s lap is warm, as if the small creature is absorbing the heat from the demigod, and he works his jaw as he finally fights through the vice grip on his throat to look down at it, regret crashing like waves over and over and over again as he fights between trying to breathe and trying to hold his breath.
He doesn’t expect Koa to be so well versed in this, though, a captains voice that only soothes the rational part of his mind (which lets be honest, is minimal given the whirlwind he’s going through). Stubbornly, he tilts his head away from Koa, swiping at his eyes in his frustration, taking a shaky breath before he forces himself to reach down and pet the scaley, fuzzy skin of the sea panther who continues to mewl while he wars with himself. “Yeah.” He says in a quiet whisper, his voice like gravel and tight, quiet with none of the caliber of the demigod he was mere minutes ago fighting the molten tiger.
But the second he starts to pet the companion, she stretches out, starts to relax, starts to try to claw her way along his shoulders, and poetically chooses to sit against his chest on the side where the lightning scars sit beneath his shirt. Poetic, and ironic, considering he fought this very thing the day he got those scars.
The Flood doesn’t feel like talking anymore, though, instead, pressing his hand to her as he goes to stand, still pointedly avoiding Koa’s gaze as he stares at Pipsqueak. “Pip’s okay, right?” He asks, trying to lead the conversation away from himself. Away, away, away. And gods, he finds himself pleading to Frey that Koa won’t ask.
The space the sea panther sits in Sunjata’s lap is warm, as if the small creature is absorbing the heat from the demigod, and he works his jaw as he finally fights through the vice grip on his throat to look down at it, regret crashing like waves over and over and over again as he fights between trying to breathe and trying to hold his breath.
He doesn’t expect Koa to be so well versed in this, though, a captains voice that only soothes the rational part of his mind (which lets be honest, is minimal given the whirlwind he’s going through). Stubbornly, he tilts his head away from Koa, swiping at his eyes in his frustration, taking a shaky breath before he forces himself to reach down and pet the scaley, fuzzy skin of the sea panther who continues to mewl while he wars with himself. “Yeah.” He says in a quiet whisper, his voice like gravel and tight, quiet with none of the caliber of the demigod he was mere minutes ago fighting the molten tiger.
But the second he starts to pet the companion, she stretches out, starts to relax, starts to try to claw her way along his shoulders, and poetically chooses to sit against his chest on the side where the lightning scars sit beneath his shirt. Poetic, and ironic, considering he fought this very thing the day he got those scars.
The Flood doesn’t feel like talking anymore, though, instead, pressing his hand to her as he goes to stand, still pointedly avoiding Koa’s gaze as he stares at Pipsqueak. “Pip’s okay, right?” He asks, trying to lead the conversation away from himself. Away, away, away. And gods, he finds himself pleading to Frey that Koa won’t ask.
he wins every time i find myself inside, alone all night
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.
