// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //
by the vicar and the company you keep //
Everyone gets settled in quickly enough, and if Sunjata’s prolonging the inevitable conversation, well… He is. The Flood steps around the edge of the small mini kitchenette, gesturing for Maea to sit on one of the couches, while he goes to pour himself something strong, because gods he’s going to need it. At least being home means he can shed the layers he’d worn in Halo, and he takes his time, prolonging it because he doesn’t entirely want to face it, along with everything else going on.
A lot has happened to him since she’d last seen him. Tattoos had been finished on his arm, that swirl with magical additions of stars in galaxies, there’s the raised bit of skin along his wrist, pale white against the bronze of his hand that tucks under the tattoo and re-emerges around his neck and it’s little electric fingers stretch out toward his heart. And of course, there’s the wing tattoos that adorn his shoulder, one with a burn scar that rushes through it, that has torn out some of the navy ink. Nate has changed too, the scar along his face, the switch of his one eye swapped for something greyer, something of steel.
It’s that gaze that he glances to for a moment, sucking in a breath despite the pain it brings in his jaw, before he goes and sits across from Maea on the other couch. “Where should we begin?” His tone shifts again, something more accented, more noble, while his gaze lifts to her pale face.
A lot has happened to him since she’d last seen him. Tattoos had been finished on his arm, that swirl with magical additions of stars in galaxies, there’s the raised bit of skin along his wrist, pale white against the bronze of his hand that tucks under the tattoo and re-emerges around his neck and it’s little electric fingers stretch out toward his heart. And of course, there’s the wing tattoos that adorn his shoulder, one with a burn scar that rushes through it, that has torn out some of the navy ink. Nate has changed too, the scar along his face, the switch of his one eye swapped for something greyer, something of steel.
It’s that gaze that he glances to for a moment, sucking in a breath despite the pain it brings in his jaw, before he goes and sits across from Maea on the other couch. “Where should we begin?” His tone shifts again, something more accented, more noble, while his gaze lifts to her pale face.
// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //
from consequence and everyone can tell //
SUNJATA
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.
