// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //
It’s easier now to manage the House of Midnight things when he never leaves the brothel. He’s moved back in once everything had gone down with Hotaru — his mentality bruised, his sanity on the edge of a string with how terrible he’s been sleeping as of late. Worse now, knowing that she’s there and he refuses to let her stay, because he can’t tell himself that it’s okay. It’s a trauma that’s unraveled enough for him to try his damndest to get drunk, pulling out the bottle from Remi and Ronin that would do the trick, and telling himself it still won’t be the same as it once was.
So he puts it away, grabs his pack of smokes, and stalks out of the House toward the Ranch. It’s a mix of shifts that get him there, picking himself as the last one with the inability to hide his dragon wings that settle against his spine, tucked in tight and their claws pointing toward one another over his head. The cigarette’s glow is vibrant orange, illuminating his face as he drags from it until it’s become nothing. And as he approaches the edge of the ranch toward Colt’s front door, his steps slow a touch to see her sitting there easily.
Now, had he not had better eyesight he might have been able to assume she was precisely as she always had been. Searching for something in the history of her memories that would warp and change over time, a mess but not so far gone it can’t be patched up. Instead, he finds a whole lot of a lump under her hat and strands of blonde that stick out a touch too rigid to really be naturally a human’s.
It’s with these slit pupil grey eyes and a ruffle of his leathery wings that Sunjata offers her a lopsided smile of greeting — wearing only boots, a pair of jeans, and a sleeveless tank top in his favorite navy blue. It’s got a cloudy kind of watercolor effect with some black floating through, but it leaves his arm with the lightning scars starkly bright in comparison to the other arm that’s decked out in wave tattoos dark enough now they seem black. And with the hEARs in his ear and the adornment of the dangling earrings from Nate he rarely ever took out, the Flood cuts quite an imposing figure. He’s got a fair amount of stubble darkening his face and the dark bags under his eyes, ones that despite the pupil adjustment are stormy at best. “Should I close my eyes now, or..?” He asks her, stepping up onto the porch and pointedly looking away from her to the fields outside of the porch.
So he puts it away, grabs his pack of smokes, and stalks out of the House toward the Ranch. It’s a mix of shifts that get him there, picking himself as the last one with the inability to hide his dragon wings that settle against his spine, tucked in tight and their claws pointing toward one another over his head. The cigarette’s glow is vibrant orange, illuminating his face as he drags from it until it’s become nothing. And as he approaches the edge of the ranch toward Colt’s front door, his steps slow a touch to see her sitting there easily.
Now, had he not had better eyesight he might have been able to assume she was precisely as she always had been. Searching for something in the history of her memories that would warp and change over time, a mess but not so far gone it can’t be patched up. Instead, he finds a whole lot of a lump under her hat and strands of blonde that stick out a touch too rigid to really be naturally a human’s.
It’s with these slit pupil grey eyes and a ruffle of his leathery wings that Sunjata offers her a lopsided smile of greeting — wearing only boots, a pair of jeans, and a sleeveless tank top in his favorite navy blue. It’s got a cloudy kind of watercolor effect with some black floating through, but it leaves his arm with the lightning scars starkly bright in comparison to the other arm that’s decked out in wave tattoos dark enough now they seem black. And with the hEARs in his ear and the adornment of the dangling earrings from Nate he rarely ever took out, the Flood cuts quite an imposing figure. He’s got a fair amount of stubble darkening his face and the dark bags under his eyes, ones that despite the pupil adjustment are stormy at best. “Should I close my eyes now, or..?” He asks her, stepping up onto the porch and pointedly looking away from her to the fields outside of the porch.
// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //
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.
