SUNJATA
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
So a few things have already gone wrong today – most notably, the nonstop fucking mud and rain that continues to fuck up King’s End despite their cleaning attempts. Such that half of the staff have already called out, some trapped in their homes until they can get rid of the mud to show up, which leaves the rest of his staff to try and pick up double time. Even Sunjata’s found that he doesn’t have enough hands to make everything work on his own and while he was supposed to be manning the desk, the bar needed a restock of something and the bartender couldn’t step away.
Hearing the dingdingdingdingding as if it’s rapid fire, the Flood sets the box of tequila on the counter of the bar with an apologetic smile before man turns to bat and flits through the halls to the front desk. Shifting back into himself at the last minute, he flashes a crooked and apologetic smile to the Theocrat’s way. “Heeeey, Danta. Sorry. Some days are less… gross than others.” He mutters, shaking his head a little before he reaches over to take the Maverick’s bag should he let him. “Sorry it decided to pour on your birthday. Let’s get you to the room so you can dry off, yeah?” Their room, he assumes, given the letter they’d shared not that long before.
For the interim, though, there is a warm dark navy towel offered for the trek up the stairs, embroidered with golden thread to say HoM.
Hearing the dingdingdingdingding as if it’s rapid fire, the Flood sets the box of tequila on the counter of the bar with an apologetic smile before man turns to bat and flits through the halls to the front desk. Shifting back into himself at the last minute, he flashes a crooked and apologetic smile to the Theocrat’s way. “Heeeey, Danta. Sorry. Some days are less… gross than others.” He mutters, shaking his head a little before he reaches over to take the Maverick’s bag should he let him. “Sorry it decided to pour on your birthday. Let’s get you to the room so you can dry off, yeah?” Their room, he assumes, given the letter they’d shared not that long before.
For the interim, though, there is a warm dark navy towel offered for the trek up the stairs, embroidered with golden thread to say HoM.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
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.
