SuNjATA
the flood
She comments on healers, and he offers a small nod in response. “Ascended healer.” He explains, a bit indifferently. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the test, because he absolutely did – despite it leaving him frustrated, flushed in the face, seeking an outlet that he can’t get with Nate. But it was better that way, easier to prevent worse stories from coming out if it stopped then. And that’s what he did.
Though any feelings the thought of the Ascended doctor might bring effectively die when she comments about leeches, enough to cause a slight sneer on his face. “That doesn’t work at all.” He rumbles with a small amount of agreement in the hatred toward them. Silence overcomes him however, feeling how she tightens the ropes around his wrist, tying them up his arms and looping them through the chair as well.
She’s pretty good at it, he determines, with some amount of amusement. But he focuses on her when she eases up to look down at him. He chuckles softly to her with a roll of his shoulders, about all he can do aside from the light tapping of his boot against the floor. “I think I can. If not, you’ll have to help me out and we’ll consider the lesson done based off of my pride alone.” A quiet chuckle to that.
He shifts in the chair slightly, leaning forward about as much as he can – which isn’t a lot – and with it, he shifts his hands the most he can, unclasping them from one another feeling for weak points or knots, something that if he were to break through, it would loosen the rest of the ropes tying him to that chair. After a few long moments of searching and figuring it out, he leans back against the wood of the chair until there’s pressure applied to the joints of the wood, alleviating some of the pressure of his upper arms.
Partially shifting his hands to the claws of the panther form, he begins to saw at the figure eight between his wrists that connect both sides of the rope to it, muscles flexing in his shoulders as he wiggles his arms a small amount, fraying some of the rope beneath his claws. He keeps at it until the rope breaks between his wrists, and he can flex his arms out a small amount with the pressure relieved. He twists his wrists to get some more of the blood flow back to them, lowering his head slightly and over his shoulder back toward Maea, claws trailing up his forearms in a pattern much like she had when she was tying him down, a snip here and a snip there, until the rope falls away and he leans forward to rub at his reddened forearms with his hands shifted back to normal. “Ah, I’ve still got it.” He chuckles, elbows on his thighs as he focuses on rubbing the muscles of his arms.
Though any feelings the thought of the Ascended doctor might bring effectively die when she comments about leeches, enough to cause a slight sneer on his face. “That doesn’t work at all.” He rumbles with a small amount of agreement in the hatred toward them. Silence overcomes him however, feeling how she tightens the ropes around his wrist, tying them up his arms and looping them through the chair as well.
She’s pretty good at it, he determines, with some amount of amusement. But he focuses on her when she eases up to look down at him. He chuckles softly to her with a roll of his shoulders, about all he can do aside from the light tapping of his boot against the floor. “I think I can. If not, you’ll have to help me out and we’ll consider the lesson done based off of my pride alone.” A quiet chuckle to that.
He shifts in the chair slightly, leaning forward about as much as he can – which isn’t a lot – and with it, he shifts his hands the most he can, unclasping them from one another feeling for weak points or knots, something that if he were to break through, it would loosen the rest of the ropes tying him to that chair. After a few long moments of searching and figuring it out, he leans back against the wood of the chair until there’s pressure applied to the joints of the wood, alleviating some of the pressure of his upper arms.
Partially shifting his hands to the claws of the panther form, he begins to saw at the figure eight between his wrists that connect both sides of the rope to it, muscles flexing in his shoulders as he wiggles his arms a small amount, fraying some of the rope beneath his claws. He keeps at it until the rope breaks between his wrists, and he can flex his arms out a small amount with the pressure relieved. He twists his wrists to get some more of the blood flow back to them, lowering his head slightly and over his shoulder back toward Maea, claws trailing up his forearms in a pattern much like she had when she was tying him down, a snip here and a snip there, until the rope falls away and he leans forward to rub at his reddened forearms with his hands shifted back to normal. “Ah, I’ve still got it.” He chuckles, elbows on his thighs as he focuses on rubbing the muscles of his arms.
if i let go, would you hold on?
would we fly?
would we fly?
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.
