He was born in Sacramento, California to a very secretive community of hand picked shifters. Now, this doesn’t mean that they hid away from the public eye – if anything, Sunjata’s father had worked hard to become the residing judge in the largest courthouse in the city. But he was meticulous, strict, and had spent a lot of time ensuring that the family secret was safe. His father also harbored old school traditions, those such as finding a wife, having a kid that one day would take the mantle. He had been particular in hand picking Sunjata’s mother, ensuring that she would be quiet and malleable, that she could become ‘the perfect housewife’ to never question and do what was told. It worked, for a time, until Sunjata was born. And with it, the weight of everything his father had been and worked for, got strapped to the boy’s shoulders. His birth meant that his mother started to grow a voice – never to his father, but in secret, and in turn it made Sunjata an empathetic, quiet, and gentle boy. But this wouldn’t do, not for his father. Sunjata from the time he could walk had already been put up against parameters he had no hope of meeting. He’d never be able to be the hardened, unfeeling statue of a man his father wanted him to be. His father wanted him to be a carbon copy, but Sunjata continued to grow up just on the edge of too soft, even in his panther shift – prone to remain quiet, stealthy, and watch rather than the brutalist overpowering composure his father held. So, to get the boy to harden up, Shaju did whatever was necessary in his mind. Sunjata learned many lessons growing up, hardly any of them stuck. The ones that did had quite literally got beaten into his head. ☼ Your shift is a secret. ☼ It’s better that people know as little as possible about you, and in turn, us. There was a third, once upon a time before he’d broken it as an accident: ‘Do not pass on the affliction.’ You see, Sunjata had reached the ripe age of eighteen, and with all the lessons under his belt he was forced to get a job that his father would approve of, one that would line him up and make sense for carving a path that would lead to taking over as his father. He went to a college, he learned some law, and he was a good kid staying out of the way, keeping his secret safe, for a couple of years before he’d flunked his third year. At 21, Sunjata’s father had shifted gears, forced him into becoming a cop in the hopes it would harden him up. It did almost work. Until he met Luci. An incredibly vocal member of an advocate group, Sunjata’d had his run ins with her when protests started to get a little too out of hand and he was called. It was also this time where Sunjata had started to realize that there was more out there than his father had originally lead onto – keeping him contained and secluded most of his college career, which hadn't been too much of a problem for a kid that preferred to be solitary. But the calls for the protests and riots kept flooding in, and each time he'd started to root for the advocates. He started to give them more leeway when he was there, and with it a connection between him and Luci had formed. Of course, he’d had his flings with guys and girls in the past, mostly trying to ignore the years of bottled up hurt, but with her? It was different. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, she became his whole world. He’d gotten his compass tattoos for her, because she was his northern star, she was his guide in the dark turmoil of his life. One day, too close to the full moon, a riot broke out. One that hadn’t been a direct result of Luci’s group, but one that she was involved with roundaboutly. Two sides faced off before spreading out, and of course Sunjata bearing his riot gear, chasing after Luci to ensure her safety, had been mistaken for trying to catch her. She knew better, but the people she’d fled with didn’t. Pelted with a multitude of things and a spark of a gunshot sent searing pain into his leg, and while otherwise he’d be able to control the change, he was frantic in the moment, giving into the protective nature his panther shift harbored as the connection between man and animal grew thin. Exhausted and pissed off, Sunjata tried to keep his wits about him, and the further into the forest of the California woodlands after Luci and a stranger he went, the more he watched as the stranger tugged her along despite her protests. In the chaos of it, Luci managed to make a break for it, right in time for two officers to come around from the back to capture her and the stranger. It was the last wall he had held up before he blacked out, pushed too far into becoming feral that he’d never even come close to reaching before or since. Awaking shortly after to find blood caked into his nails, dried to his face, a franticness suddenly surged through him as he hauled himself up, seeking her out only to find her a part of the aftermath. She was still alive though, if only barely, even if nothing would be the same. It would be another few weeks of pain and agony for her, the second he’d hauled her out of the woods clinging to death’s door, taking her to the nearest hospital, evading the questions of what happened? and the news that would break out of what officials could only describe as a mountain lion attack to a few of the riot members that scattered into the woods. Healing was slow for humans, as Sunjata learned intimately those weeks, but he remained by her side, taking a leave from work due to being a survivor of the attack, arguing with doctors about what they could do to help her further. There wasn’t much other than to sit and wait in the hospital, and it was a fate that wore heavier on Sunjata’s shoulders than anything else he’d endured up to this point. Three weeks later she woke, could move a small amount, and much to his surprise there was little fear – possibly because she couldn’t remember much of the attack, which only sparked more and more regret. And by the time the next full moon arrived, Sunjata had hoped that it hadn’t passed on, that he hadn’t broken perhaps the most important rule his family had instilled in him. He was wrong, of course. He’d gotten her out of the hospital, set up in her studio apartment, remained there like a protective watcher, catering to her every need, but the closer to the moon she got, the more upset with the attack she’d gotten, and he’d let his secret slip – that he’d been the cause. It was all it took, the emotional turmoil of learning that he’d been the reason for her suffering was enough to send her into her change, an excruciatingly painful shift from what Sunjata was used to seeing and enduring himself. His hope for her to remain human vanished in the face of her hybrid form. Putting his emotions aside and a conscious shift this time to ensure she remained in the apartment, Sunjata watched, profusely apologized, and soothed her as she started to fully heal the lingering wounds from his attack, offering quick explanations as to what happened to her. And from there, an even deeper bond formed, one that had them planning their escape – to leave, start over new, just themselves out of sight of everyone else. They wouldn’t get that far, though, because no matter how much Sunjata thought he was ahead of his father, he never was. The night they were to leave, his father had announced that they’d captured a recently afflicted shifter. Much to Sunjata’s horror, it was Luci. And his father, already knowing what had happened, intended to use it as proof. After all, in his home, he was judge, jury, and executioner. Sunjata had broken a golden rule, no matter how much he advocated for her. The result? Exile from his home in California, though not before being forced to see the repercussions of his mistakes. Sunjata watched as his father murdered Luci. The very same night, sent out with bags packing. He’d wandered for a few years before ending up here, successful at getting out of the situation he was in regardless of the method. In the process, he stopped somewhere around Denver and gotten the wing tattoos to symbolize his freedom, adding to a mentality of "fuck you in particular, dad." Now that he’s here, though, he’s burning through the parting inheritance to live on, because he isn’t entirely sure he’s capable of becoming a cop again, even if it’s one of the only things he does know how to do.