SUNJATA
the flood
dreams where you're murdered
boy i know you heard it all before
boy i know you heard it all before
He doesn’t remember the last time he was in a prison very well. But the feelings were much the same in the end. Loss, awkwardness, close confines and the smell of dust and something old, spiders skittering around. There’s a heaviness that settles on him, the meeting with Delphia being absolutely useless and the shock of a child of Safrin he’d somehow ended up helping with. He needs a break, a shift toward the Grounds to perhaps read the letter again and grow somewhat frustrated, to check on the bar and see how things were there, before returning to Torchline to have the fucking volcano explode and he finds himself reading the notice board post about here.
Sunjata and Deimos don’t get along, but at this point he doesn’t really care. Amalia and him are on okay terms now, he’s healed from the last attack, and in the end all he wants to do is offer some sort of help to take his mind off of everything else.
So he arrives on the heels of Weaver, surprisingly, wearing a short sleeve shirt with Safrin’s daggers at his sides, perhaps the most prized possession he has right now. And he ducks into the prison to glance around all of those that have attended, folding one tattooed arm over the other currently blank one – though Weaver would certainly recognize the work – as he moves straight toward Deimos. Bags beneath his eyes, voice low hopefully only for Deimos to hear, he focuses shadowed steel gaze on the man. “I am only here to help, and then I'll leave.” He turns then, nodding toward Loren and Josh, but inevitably moving to stand beside Weaver, quiet as stone.
Sunjata and Deimos don’t get along, but at this point he doesn’t really care. Amalia and him are on okay terms now, he’s healed from the last attack, and in the end all he wants to do is offer some sort of help to take his mind off of everything else.
So he arrives on the heels of Weaver, surprisingly, wearing a short sleeve shirt with Safrin’s daggers at his sides, perhaps the most prized possession he has right now. And he ducks into the prison to glance around all of those that have attended, folding one tattooed arm over the other currently blank one – though Weaver would certainly recognize the work – as he moves straight toward Deimos. Bags beneath his eyes, voice low hopefully only for Deimos to hear, he focuses shadowed steel gaze on the man. “I am only here to help, and then I'll leave.” He turns then, nodding toward Loren and Josh, but inevitably moving to stand beside Weaver, quiet as stone.
you shut your eyes to pain
boy then just lock the fuckin' door
boy then just lock the fuckin' door
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.
