drink with me to days gone by

SuNjATA

the flood

Settling along Oliver’s shoulder, he tucks his wings in tight before his head is patted – and for a moment, he contemplates seeing how much power is behind the beak of his, if he can get away with biting at Oliver’s fingers as he withdraws – perhaps it’s the alcohol talking. At the compliment, however, it appeals to the ego that lives within him, and he dips his head in his own specific way of saying thanks, since he can’t talk to Oliver like he could talk to Remi in this form. There’s no bond like there was before.

At Oliver’s laughter though, navy eyes focus on the man before him, and a beaky grin crosses his face before he extends his wings again in a very decidedly Sunjata-esque kind of bow, before those very same shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. But then he extends his wings again, pushing off from Oliver to reach the floor again, shifting back into himself to lean back against the stone of the wall, reaching for the bottle. “It is very me.” He chuckles, shooting Oliver a smirk.

“I thought it was funny though, since the feathers kind of match my tattoos.” He uncorks the bottle and takes a deep swig of it, before recorking it and setting it down between them.

this ain't no place for no hero