i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
Perhaps she’s right in that Safrin didn’t own the stars – but here, as far as Sunjata was concerned, they bent and bowed for her. And by that logic, all he can do is offer a softer little apologetic smile (over not quite living up to the standards she apparently holds for him). “The stars tried to kill me.” He decides to offer the explanation regardless, looking away from her again the second she starts to dress herself, taking the moment to inspect the cosmos she’s decided was her ideal space. “Mm, it is, but alas I have baggage.” A lot of it. Trunk loads. So much so that after Nate’s death he hadn’t given into his usual coping mechanisms.
Like it broke a fundamental part of him and he’d pieced it back together differently enough. Regardless, as far as he was concerned, Frey was still pleased with the work he could do whether or not he participated or not. And while it wasn’t intended to come out as judgement, it still chafes against the part of Sunjata that had been conditioned to drive for success – to excel expectations. But she seems content with the company regardless and Sunjata finally lets his gaze land back on her again now that she’s clothed (enough, he can still see the lines of curves on her body). “Of course.” He mentions by means of getting more whiskey, stepping toward the door to crack it open and make the request, and not more than a few seconds later, a decanter of whiskey is handed to him. He closes the door once more, stepping back over toward her side where she has the glasses ready, pouring a knuckle’s worth in both of them before setting it on the bedside table. “Should be plenty to get you somewhat used to it.” He murmurs, flashing her a playful wink. still playing the part.
Like it broke a fundamental part of him and he’d pieced it back together differently enough. Regardless, as far as he was concerned, Frey was still pleased with the work he could do whether or not he participated or not. And while it wasn’t intended to come out as judgement, it still chafes against the part of Sunjata that had been conditioned to drive for success – to excel expectations. But she seems content with the company regardless and Sunjata finally lets his gaze land back on her again now that she’s clothed (enough, he can still see the lines of curves on her body). “Of course.” He mentions by means of getting more whiskey, stepping toward the door to crack it open and make the request, and not more than a few seconds later, a decanter of whiskey is handed to him. He closes the door once more, stepping back over toward her side where she has the glasses ready, pouring a knuckle’s worth in both of them before setting it on the bedside table. “Should be plenty to get you somewhat used to it.” He murmurs, flashing her a playful wink. still playing the part.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?
am i a villain or a saint?
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.
