SuNJATA
the flood
Things have gotten in order, the bar’s walls were filled with small decorum aside from the back wall which held the empty boxes aside from two, for collages, knickknacks, things to remember the lost loved ones from, and it had been stocked fully. He’d done better, too, to not crack open any of the bottles until they were ready — until he was ready. And so here he was, ensuring the curtains were drawn, the rooms were ready, the interior had been cleaned and prepared. He’d had some help from the Naturals in getting the place ready, and for that he was thankful.
Haai sits in her little nest atop the the shelves behind the bar, a perfect place for the griffin to survey the world below, to watch and stretch her wings like a small gargoyle as she watches from above — and there, along the side of the bar thats closed off from everyone else, is the space for Melita. A small desk, a place for her things, to be and learn and grow, accompanied by another nest of sorts that Haai had put together for Fangorn. And in her appreciation, she’d left a small little trinket in it as well for her oldest friend.
Along the top of the opposite wall, painted along the dark hue of the wall in a light bronze, is the impromprovised song Jigano had done weeks ago, along with a translated version of it to Korofi. If nothing else, that’s what this bar was about now. Originally it had been a fresh start, and now it was more of a memorial of sorts. But he doesn’t mind, it’s almost like it’s the last piece of her he has.
And so he waits for those who wish to, to arrive.
Haai sits in her little nest atop the the shelves behind the bar, a perfect place for the griffin to survey the world below, to watch and stretch her wings like a small gargoyle as she watches from above — and there, along the side of the bar thats closed off from everyone else, is the space for Melita. A small desk, a place for her things, to be and learn and grow, accompanied by another nest of sorts that Haai had put together for Fangorn. And in her appreciation, she’d left a small little trinket in it as well for her oldest friend.
Along the top of the opposite wall, painted along the dark hue of the wall in a light bronze, is the impromprovised song Jigano had done weeks ago, along with a translated version of it to Korofi. If nothing else, that’s what this bar was about now. Originally it had been a fresh start, and now it was more of a memorial of sorts. But he doesn’t mind, it’s almost like it’s the last piece of her he has.
And so he waits for those who wish to, to arrive.
rely a bit too heavily on alcohol & irony
BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3
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.
