// may we dance until it rains //
So much paperwork. But this wasn’t Korofi so he didn’t have to file reports to anyone. He didn’t have to do any announcements to the higher ups. He is the highest position there is, here. So he lets that joke trail off in the dark of the attic as he lights some of the lamps, when the large wine spider moves and strikes him with enough surprise that he lights up like a lightning rod himself and flinches slightly with the smack to his arm, a breath leaving him that’s halfway between relief and a small laugh to her scolding. “I didn’t do it on purpose.” It was a passive magic he couldn’t really turn off. Heightened emotions caused it to spark in his scars.
Finally, though, the crate is opened and he’s bending down to collect the four bottles – because yes, Colt, he’s sure, when he draws up and hears her. Cradling three bottles of lantern oil in his arm, the last sits in his hand as he pops the lid back on and rises back to his full height, looking over at her as she speaks. “LongNight always puts me on edge.” He explains, like it’s a good enough reason.
And for those that remembered the LongNights of the Hollowed Grounds from years past, they’d understand. “I’ll be fine when the sun comes up.” He shrugs his shoulder that isn’t attached to the arm holding the bottles, flashes her a rougish smile that doesn’t meet his eyes again, and steps past her toward the wine spider to snag a canvas tote bag that’s stacked in a pile beside her. He hands it to her, before he pauses directly in front of her, face illuminated halfway by the lantern light up here as he looks down at her. He pulls himself together enough that the feathers vanish, letting the compass tattoos be visible again with the northern points that aim at her from where he stands. “The distraction’s nice, at least.” Even if it was as mundane as collecting lantern oil to give her before he has to go and try to find another way to keep himself busy until the sun came up.
Finally, though, the crate is opened and he’s bending down to collect the four bottles – because yes, Colt, he’s sure, when he draws up and hears her. Cradling three bottles of lantern oil in his arm, the last sits in his hand as he pops the lid back on and rises back to his full height, looking over at her as she speaks. “LongNight always puts me on edge.” He explains, like it’s a good enough reason.
And for those that remembered the LongNights of the Hollowed Grounds from years past, they’d understand. “I’ll be fine when the sun comes up.” He shrugs his shoulder that isn’t attached to the arm holding the bottles, flashes her a rougish smile that doesn’t meet his eyes again, and steps past her toward the wine spider to snag a canvas tote bag that’s stacked in a pile beside her. He hands it to her, before he pauses directly in front of her, face illuminated halfway by the lantern light up here as he looks down at her. He pulls himself together enough that the feathers vanish, letting the compass tattoos be visible again with the northern points that aim at her from where he stands. “The distraction’s nice, at least.” Even if it was as mundane as collecting lantern oil to give her before he has to go and try to find another way to keep himself busy until the sun came up.
Sunjata
// may we drink to hide our shame //
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.
