they made a mockery of him once 'look at the walking tragedy' now they whisper when he passes
he's a demon, with a crown of blood
She leaves do shower. And he tends to the fire until it’s roaring and warm, warm enough he can shed more outer layers, until he’s left in a tank top of sorts. He slips into the kitchen while she showers, putting a few things together, but he finds he’s not hungry in the slightest, so he simply makes a sandwich of sorts for her, a glass of water. But he pauses near the wine and alcohol briefly, before he pours himself a small glass of it and drinks it swiftly, rinsing the cup out. He grits his teeth against the burn, but it’s a welcome pain in comparison to the alternative.
He returns with the food from the kitchen, setting it on the table before the flame until he settles in the chair across from it. His arms are folded across his chest, his head tilted back and he almost looks like he’s sleeping as the warmth of the fire floods the room, and the alcohol lifts the edge of him.
He only stirs when she appears, dropping water from her long hair and pink skin, with a dress that’s too tight. He can understand, where once muscle had been what was primarily viewed on his arms, there’s not enough of those anymore. But he manages to unfold his arms and sit forward, gesturing to the food he’s prepared and the glass of water in the spot nearest the fire. “Try to eat something, drink some water, warm up… please?” It’s a rumble of a suggestion, but he hopes she goes through it all with it anyway. His elbows resting on his thighs while his hand reaches to brush by his wounds briefly, while his eyes focus on the fire instead of her.
He returns with the food from the kitchen, setting it on the table before the flame until he settles in the chair across from it. His arms are folded across his chest, his head tilted back and he almost looks like he’s sleeping as the warmth of the fire floods the room, and the alcohol lifts the edge of him.
He only stirs when she appears, dropping water from her long hair and pink skin, with a dress that’s too tight. He can understand, where once muscle had been what was primarily viewed on his arms, there’s not enough of those anymore. But he manages to unfold his arms and sit forward, gesturing to the food he’s prepared and the glass of water in the spot nearest the fire. “Try to eat something, drink some water, warm up… please?” It’s a rumble of a suggestion, but he hopes she goes through it all with it anyway. His elbows resting on his thighs while his hand reaches to brush by his wounds briefly, while his eyes focus on the fire instead of her.
does it look like he's still under your control?
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.
