// i had enough, i need your innocence. don't let up. just give me your love
give me your release, i need your healing, of your touch, i can take it, i can take the pain //
give me your release, i need your healing, of your touch, i can take it, i can take the pain //
He promises it’s just him, and despite everything that has happened, Sunjata believes Ronin. He visibly relaxes in the slumping of shoulders, the drooping of wings ever so slightly that Ronin’s comment has the edge of a soft smile quirking the corner of his lip. It’s little things, but improvements all the same for now. “Glad it’s working.” He offers, drawing up to a barstool that his wings fit around, he sits at the kitchen bar to peer at what all Ronin has brought. In response to the bottle, he pulls out a drawer (a wine section as it were) stocked with bottles and glasses of all manners, to which he pulls two out of.
He sets them beside the hidden platter of food, watching as he lifts the cover to reveal all the food below. He had missed out last year, and was intending on missing out this year too, but the smell of food hits his senses and it soothes him somewhere within. “I think that’s a fair deal.” He murmurs, forgoing all pretenses of plates and the like, the spear a shrimp with his claw to devour swiftly.
But he nearly choked on it as he goes to swallow it down, Remi’s name on the air having his gaze snap to Ronin. Getting a handle on himself, he swallows and clears his throat, tucking his wings in tight even if he doesn’t realize the portrait of anxiety he’s portraying. “What does he say?” He asks, curious, but his heartbeat thunders in his chest with what it means, his tone edged with a flatness that’s entirely a facade.
He sets them beside the hidden platter of food, watching as he lifts the cover to reveal all the food below. He had missed out last year, and was intending on missing out this year too, but the smell of food hits his senses and it soothes him somewhere within. “I think that’s a fair deal.” He murmurs, forgoing all pretenses of plates and the like, the spear a shrimp with his claw to devour swiftly.
But he nearly choked on it as he goes to swallow it down, Remi’s name on the air having his gaze snap to Ronin. Getting a handle on himself, he swallows and clears his throat, tucking his wings in tight even if he doesn’t realize the portrait of anxiety he’s portraying. “What does he say?” He asks, curious, but his heartbeat thunders in his chest with what it means, his tone edged with a flatness that’s entirely a facade.
it's all for you, for you, for you. it's always been for you
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.
