SUNJATA
the flood
The gift was supposed to arrive today, so Sunjata had made sure to station himself close to the door rather than up in his office. A table set out in the living room beside the couch, littered with books and diagrams of what they needed to accomplish for the quest from Safrin. He’s been nose deep for a while now, until the knock at the door has his attention, has him moving toward it so he can open it to spy a man he’s rarely talked to but has seen around quite often. But the governor remains in the door frame, waiting until Declan’s decided that he’s the correct recipient, before he’s reaching out to take the package from the other man.
“Thanks.” He rumbles as he sets it on a table beside the entrance, a finger shifting to a claw so he can break through the sealant that kept it all closed, before he’s peering at it to make sure it’s the right one. He doesn’t imagine Declan would’ve broken it in transit, but that also doesn’t mean the person at the shop hadn’t wrapped up the right one or made the adjustments he’d requested. They had, however, and all was well when his steel gaze flickers back to Declan and the smoke billowing around the other man.
His gaze drifts toward the weather outside briefly before landing back on Declan, an amused smirk crossing his face. “It is, isn’t it?” His accented voice rumbles as he steps out, shutting the door behind him and pulling out his own smoke, lighting it easily, and taking a deep drag. But as his gaze lands back on Declan, there’s a question in his gaze, a question that seems to say ‘what’s up?’
“Thanks.” He rumbles as he sets it on a table beside the entrance, a finger shifting to a claw so he can break through the sealant that kept it all closed, before he’s peering at it to make sure it’s the right one. He doesn’t imagine Declan would’ve broken it in transit, but that also doesn’t mean the person at the shop hadn’t wrapped up the right one or made the adjustments he’d requested. They had, however, and all was well when his steel gaze flickers back to Declan and the smoke billowing around the other man.
His gaze drifts toward the weather outside briefly before landing back on Declan, an amused smirk crossing his face. “It is, isn’t it?” His accented voice rumbles as he steps out, shutting the door behind him and pulling out his own smoke, lighting it easily, and taking a deep drag. But as his gaze lands back on Declan, there’s a question in his gaze, a question that seems to say ‘what’s up?’
did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?
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.
