SUNJATA
the flood
The comment is one that Sunjata doesn’t dive into fully. He was right, Safrin had made him who he is, and he’s done whatever he could for her since then. As for pretty things? He knows that part is true, but he doesn’t particularly consider himself a pretty thing. A taped together mosaic of trauma, perhaps, but not pretty. Maybe that’s why she had finished the tattoos he initially started to get for her, to be able to control the way they looked, to add her touch, to make him beautiful too. But he doesn’t know, doesn’t ask, and instead lets his steel gaze focus on Declan once again.
It’s just in time to offer a snort back to the other man. Traps upon traps upon traps. It never seemed to end, really. Though Sunjata was good at rolling with the punches, most times. Eyes follow Declan as he stands, peruses the bookshelves, sets the glass along one of them, and Sunjata sits back in his chair to watch, to listen. Where does he get the information from? He’s the Governor. He hears about them from everywhere. But Declan isn’t finished and Sunjata doesn’t care much to divulge his personal ability to collect information, so he remains silent.
Until Declan’s turning the tune again and Sunjata’s mask breaks with a raise of his brow, a bit more narrowed attention. “We’re a bit spread out at the moment.” Sunjata murmurs instead, not denying, confirming if anything else. What was the point in lying about it when someone knew evidently all about it. So he takes a sip from his glass, staring hard at Declan until he lets things meld together. “Headquarters is here but we’ve got extended reach. Halo, the Grounds… Technically Stormbreak but there is no way to get in contact there without someone finding out.” A humorless smile crosses his face as he shakes his head and sets the glass down.
“Why, you want in? Itching for something else to do other than eavesdrop during deliveries?” His gaze lifts again, a rather pointed look given to Declan.
It’s just in time to offer a snort back to the other man. Traps upon traps upon traps. It never seemed to end, really. Though Sunjata was good at rolling with the punches, most times. Eyes follow Declan as he stands, peruses the bookshelves, sets the glass along one of them, and Sunjata sits back in his chair to watch, to listen. Where does he get the information from? He’s the Governor. He hears about them from everywhere. But Declan isn’t finished and Sunjata doesn’t care much to divulge his personal ability to collect information, so he remains silent.
Until Declan’s turning the tune again and Sunjata’s mask breaks with a raise of his brow, a bit more narrowed attention. “We’re a bit spread out at the moment.” Sunjata murmurs instead, not denying, confirming if anything else. What was the point in lying about it when someone knew evidently all about it. So he takes a sip from his glass, staring hard at Declan until he lets things meld together. “Headquarters is here but we’ve got extended reach. Halo, the Grounds… Technically Stormbreak but there is no way to get in contact there without someone finding out.” A humorless smile crosses his face as he shakes his head and sets the glass down.
“Why, you want in? Itching for something else to do other than eavesdrop during deliveries?” His gaze lifts again, a rather pointed look given to Declan.
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.
