SUNJATA
the flood
'cause we might as well be blind,
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
“I know you’re from Halo, but it might do some good to warm up a bit while in Torchline.” He rumbles by way of greeting, watching the person leave that Morgan had offered quite a chilly look to. His gaze slips back toward the Warden, a fanged smile of greeting on his lips as he gestures to the stairs just behind her.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Warden?” He asks, certain that it isn’t about the letter he’d sent prior — after all, it had referred to Loren and the metal, that issue already solved. The rest of it, though, was up in the air.
The office space is relatively small, but typically Sunjata didn’t do too much within it. It worked for the spur of the moment meetings like this one, plus it came stocked with whiskey and cigarettes, anything that would make a meeting go by easier. But he offers her a space to sit before he stands beside his desk, hip resting against the edge, waiting for what it might be about — a sleeveless shirt that shows all the tattoos and scars that adorn his skin, the shifting and shimmering stars of Safrin’s tattoos vibrant against the tanned bronze of his skin, broken up only by silvery ascended bite scars that circle and dot around his neck.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Warden?” He asks, certain that it isn’t about the letter he’d sent prior — after all, it had referred to Loren and the metal, that issue already solved. The rest of it, though, was up in the air.
The office space is relatively small, but typically Sunjata didn’t do too much within it. It worked for the spur of the moment meetings like this one, plus it came stocked with whiskey and cigarettes, anything that would make a meeting go by easier. But he offers her a space to sit before he stands beside his desk, hip resting against the edge, waiting for what it might be about — a sleeveless shirt that shows all the tattoos and scars that adorn his skin, the shifting and shimmering stars of Safrin’s tattoos vibrant against the tanned bronze of his skin, broken up only by silvery ascended bite scars that circle and dot around his neck.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do
— that you'll fire in vain —
but those 12 rounds just won't do
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.
