i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie
“Yes. In the jungle.” His tone is almost matter of fact now that she’s cling to that part, but he sips from the water, sweat beading up along his temples and leaving his hands sticky with it, the feathers that coat his shoulders turn dark with the dampness. Her comment of Torchline and him doing a good job do bring him out of it, a little, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. He is doing a good job. He is.
Her question of drawing piques his interest, his head tilting to the small table as he moves the water glass to sit upon it, to shrug out of the blankets that cover him and harbor in his feverish heat. “I can try.” He says, making room and grabbing an offered paper, grabbing an offered pencil. Sunjata isn’t an artist, not really, most of his attempts have ended up quite abstract appearing. But as it stood, now, he chooses to actually try to lay out the lines and formations of the mansion’s entry way, of the staircase that lead up to both wings of the house and met in the middle, to add in the lines for the marble flooring that’s covered in blood.
Honestly, it looks great to him, probably his best attempt at anything lately. But as he works, Isla will find that it doesn’t at all appear how he thinks it does. The curved lines Sunjata has thought he’d made into the staircase begin to creep toward each other, lines to the stairs not at all even and crashing into each other, and the blood on the marble flooring a bit more akin to squiggles than anything else.
Her question of drawing piques his interest, his head tilting to the small table as he moves the water glass to sit upon it, to shrug out of the blankets that cover him and harbor in his feverish heat. “I can try.” He says, making room and grabbing an offered paper, grabbing an offered pencil. Sunjata isn’t an artist, not really, most of his attempts have ended up quite abstract appearing. But as it stood, now, he chooses to actually try to lay out the lines and formations of the mansion’s entry way, of the staircase that lead up to both wings of the house and met in the middle, to add in the lines for the marble flooring that’s covered in blood.
Honestly, it looks great to him, probably his best attempt at anything lately. But as he works, Isla will find that it doesn’t at all appear how he thinks it does. The curved lines Sunjata has thought he’d made into the staircase begin to creep toward each other, lines to the stairs not at all even and crashing into each other, and the blood on the marble flooring a bit more akin to squiggles than anything else.
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.
