DECLAN
Declan would be lying if he said it didn't irk him how hard Sunjata stared at him. It couldn't be helped, though; the man was clearly suspicious of people that came asking questions. This wasn't Declan's most discreet attempt at gathering information, although his questions were also not unjustified and that was the reason for his boldness.
Rumors of this and that and those, and talk of war, had made their rounds through the city already. He merely wanted to get to the bottom of it, to weasel his way into the thick of it, and come out on top because he knew it before it happened. To let nothing catch him by surprise. He didn't particularly care that Sunjata was torn in half by the political and religious transgressions going on around them due to his loyalty to his husband. Though, he supposed he'd have to try to care - even if only for the time being.
Life is much easier without attachments, Sunjata, a soft sigh worked its way out of Declan's nose as he followed Sunjata into the house. A sharp left was made, though Declan did take a second to glance around at the entrance. "Nice place," he mumbled, raising his brown and gold eyebrows at what little popped out at him.
Sunjata clearly wanted to take him into his office, though, so Declan obliged. He let a few feet slip between them, though he kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the giant's back.
Upon entering, Declan is quick and cheeky to make himself quite comfortable. He sheds his coat along the back of the chair in front of the desk, revealing a black, knitted longsleeve shirt that hugs his frame more readily. With a grateful nod of his head, his expression seems to warm and loosen up as he accepts the glass. Yes, alcohol, of all things.
That is Declan's weakness; not a being or a Goddess. He finds the drink to be far more refined than something that would require sentimentality, or favors, or that might demand unwavering loyalty no matter what should happen. Which brings his thoughts back to...
"Safrin, aye?" he smirks in amusement, settling into the seat quite easily and folding one leg over the other, letting his arms spread over the chair. "Seems like'a trap, don' it. Marriage, too, aye..." He lets out a winded sigh, rolling his neck, as if he is not envious. Because he isn't. Only, he is leaving out the fact that he himself follows Vi and Safrin - the Old Gods. Not like a pious fucking wide-eyed child, of course, but he does favor them over the Voice. She is new and different and he doesn't quite know how to feel about her.
He takes a long drink until the glass is empty. Leaning forward, he sets it pointedly back in front of Sunjata with a questioning arch of one brow. "You'll forgive me if 'm a bit thirsty, given the back 'n' forth that I do," He smiles, eyes wandering about the office to take in the details. After a few moments and maybe another drink is served, he asks more seriously, "So, we know 'bout the Order, hmm. Do we know where they're comin' from?" He lifts his gaze expectantly, something clever and devious wrinkling the corner of his eyes; the turning of very specific gears. "Maybe I ought to deliver a message."
Rumors of this and that and those, and talk of war, had made their rounds through the city already. He merely wanted to get to the bottom of it, to weasel his way into the thick of it, and come out on top because he knew it before it happened. To let nothing catch him by surprise. He didn't particularly care that Sunjata was torn in half by the political and religious transgressions going on around them due to his loyalty to his husband. Though, he supposed he'd have to try to care - even if only for the time being.
Life is much easier without attachments, Sunjata, a soft sigh worked its way out of Declan's nose as he followed Sunjata into the house. A sharp left was made, though Declan did take a second to glance around at the entrance. "Nice place," he mumbled, raising his brown and gold eyebrows at what little popped out at him.
Sunjata clearly wanted to take him into his office, though, so Declan obliged. He let a few feet slip between them, though he kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the giant's back.
Upon entering, Declan is quick and cheeky to make himself quite comfortable. He sheds his coat along the back of the chair in front of the desk, revealing a black, knitted longsleeve shirt that hugs his frame more readily. With a grateful nod of his head, his expression seems to warm and loosen up as he accepts the glass. Yes, alcohol, of all things.
That is Declan's weakness; not a being or a Goddess. He finds the drink to be far more refined than something that would require sentimentality, or favors, or that might demand unwavering loyalty no matter what should happen. Which brings his thoughts back to...
"Safrin, aye?" he smirks in amusement, settling into the seat quite easily and folding one leg over the other, letting his arms spread over the chair. "Seems like'a trap, don' it. Marriage, too, aye..." He lets out a winded sigh, rolling his neck, as if he is not envious. Because he isn't. Only, he is leaving out the fact that he himself follows Vi and Safrin - the Old Gods. Not like a pious fucking wide-eyed child, of course, but he does favor them over the Voice. She is new and different and he doesn't quite know how to feel about her.
He takes a long drink until the glass is empty. Leaning forward, he sets it pointedly back in front of Sunjata with a questioning arch of one brow. "You'll forgive me if 'm a bit thirsty, given the back 'n' forth that I do," He smiles, eyes wandering about the office to take in the details. After a few moments and maybe another drink is served, he asks more seriously, "So, we know 'bout the Order, hmm. Do we know where they're comin' from?" He lifts his gaze expectantly, something clever and devious wrinkling the corner of his eyes; the turning of very specific gears. "Maybe I ought to deliver a message."
everything I do is wrong
but, by Gods, I do it right
but, by Gods, I do it right
