SUNJATA
isn't it funny?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?
how the cold numbs everything but grief?
Oh, he absolutely had overdone it. Had avoided all talk of Halo and what had occurred there, how he’d drank, how Phoebe and him had argued for what felt like the thousandth time. How he’d come back to train Maea and to finally face Hotaru… Well, he wasn’t particularly in the best space at this present moment. A constant revolve of getting better and getting worse, and well – the pendulum had swung hard in the side of getting worse.
Of course he was too stubborn to actually seek Nate out, too stubborn to admit to it just yet when Torchline was on the horizon. And rather than remain at the VlamVloed before heading home where he’d have the possibility of speaking with Maea and maybe making more mistakes, or going home to yet another wonderful night, he’d chosen the quiet of the Ruins. Unable to keep from partially shifting, he walks idly with his hands in his pockets, horns curling out from around ruffled dark hair, a shadowed gaze with bags beneath his eyes.
He half expects nobody else to be around, though the night is warm enough and leaves him wearing nothing more than a pair of pants, his boots, and a sleeveless shirt. Biting on the inside of his cheek with slightly elongated canines, he inhales a shaky, rattling breath and rounds a corner only to spot a figure ahead of him – was he coming toward him? It’s hard for him to tell in the dark light of the Ruins if he knows the man as well, so all he can do is dip his head slightly, gaze following the path he takes while trying to avoid any sort of conversation.
Of course he was too stubborn to actually seek Nate out, too stubborn to admit to it just yet when Torchline was on the horizon. And rather than remain at the VlamVloed before heading home where he’d have the possibility of speaking with Maea and maybe making more mistakes, or going home to yet another wonderful night, he’d chosen the quiet of the Ruins. Unable to keep from partially shifting, he walks idly with his hands in his pockets, horns curling out from around ruffled dark hair, a shadowed gaze with bags beneath his eyes.
He half expects nobody else to be around, though the night is warm enough and leaves him wearing nothing more than a pair of pants, his boots, and a sleeveless shirt. Biting on the inside of his cheek with slightly elongated canines, he inhales a shaky, rattling breath and rounds a corner only to spot a figure ahead of him – was he coming toward him? It’s hard for him to tell in the dark light of the Ruins if he knows the man as well, so all he can do is dip his head slightly, gaze following the path he takes while trying to avoid any sort of conversation.
if we could light up the room with pain,
we'd be such a glorious fire
we'd be such a glorious fire
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.
