in my darkness, you turned on a light
i hate the way you bring me back to life
A bell on him? If Sunjata didn’t know any better, he’d have made some sort of comment on that threat. But he does, a surprise even he admits as he shakes his head with an exasperated sigh, leaning around the corner to spot the herd and ensure they were still all there. Turning back toward the summoner, he snorts. Doing nothing? Really? Alright.
Perhaps Loren was just scared. Perhaps for good reason. Sunjata might be just a smidge too drunk to see it clearly.
Pulling the cloak over his shoulders a bit tighter, he makes to head back into the Temple, absolutely rolling his eyes to the summoner. But a voice pipes up, talking of bones and not being bothered, a whistle of sorts that has him glancing over his shoulder – steel eyes narrowing at the sight. He almost thinks about replying to it, before Loren’s sharpened voice hits him – a form of demand. And he huffs a cloud of smoke before taking the few steps it takes him to reach the Temple’s door again, slipping in and ensuring with Loren’s help that it’s locked and closed behind him.
Then, he turns to Loren, aiming to bump his shoulder into the man, looking down to him. “One, if you call helping Lusea board it up and guard the entrance before we burned it down entirely, ‘doing nothing’, then go ahead. Two, would we have heard them?” He asks with a tilt to his head, enclosing the space between them. “Or could it have been too loud in here?” His accented voice has dropped with the suggestion, recalling growls, moans, the sound of skin on skin, the sudden memory of Loren's kiss - a first for the flood. It's an honest question, really, as his steel eyes remain serious yet still somewhat glazed by his drunkenness, a half smirk crossing his face.
Or maybe he’s still a small amount bitter that Loren had gotten his hands all over Lusea, even if it was fair game. Or maybe he’s just really drunk, and none of it matters anyway? Or maybe, option three, he really misses the boxing ring of Korofi.
Perhaps Loren was just scared. Perhaps for good reason. Sunjata might be just a smidge too drunk to see it clearly.
Pulling the cloak over his shoulders a bit tighter, he makes to head back into the Temple, absolutely rolling his eyes to the summoner. But a voice pipes up, talking of bones and not being bothered, a whistle of sorts that has him glancing over his shoulder – steel eyes narrowing at the sight. He almost thinks about replying to it, before Loren’s sharpened voice hits him – a form of demand. And he huffs a cloud of smoke before taking the few steps it takes him to reach the Temple’s door again, slipping in and ensuring with Loren’s help that it’s locked and closed behind him.
Then, he turns to Loren, aiming to bump his shoulder into the man, looking down to him. “One, if you call helping Lusea board it up and guard the entrance before we burned it down entirely, ‘doing nothing’, then go ahead. Two, would we have heard them?” He asks with a tilt to his head, enclosing the space between them. “Or could it have been too loud in here?” His accented voice has dropped with the suggestion, recalling growls, moans, the sound of skin on skin, the sudden memory of Loren's kiss - a first for the flood. It's an honest question, really, as his steel eyes remain serious yet still somewhat glazed by his drunkenness, a half smirk crossing his face.
Or maybe he’s still a small amount bitter that Loren had gotten his hands all over Lusea, even if it was fair game. Or maybe he’s just really drunk, and none of it matters anyway? Or maybe, option three, he really misses the boxing ring of Korofi.
'cause i am haunted, i cannot tell a lie
i like you better when i am dead inside
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.
