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
He’s focusing on the lightning patterns in the bar as he reaches for the bottle, listening to her quiet admission. “Then stay if you don’t mind the mess.” He replies, watching as she works to try and clean up too. She doesn’t have to – she doesn’t have to do any of it at all. It was him, in the end, at least Phoebe had the decency to yell at people to get out before she’d rampaged. That was one step better than Korofi, better than his father in a way.
Didn’t necessarily mean it was a good thing, however.
Her request is met with a dark and quiet laugh, setting the bottle on the counter to run a hand through his hair, pulling at his shirt to cool himself off a small amount. There’s a sheen of sweat that glints against his suntanned skin, against the tattoos, and when he looks to her his gaze is dark, shadowed, haunted. “Help me with cleaning it up? I’m not even sure when we can open it again. She fucking took out over half the stock.” He says, gesturing to the bar behind him, turning his back to her as he looks up at Haai’s nest, charred by strikes of rainbow lightning.
Ringless hands are splayed along the table behind him, cigarette back in his mouth as he shakes his head and ducks it a bit – some small of disbelief coating over his features. He’d never have expected such a volatile reaction, never expected any of it. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps he’d be better off. “Maybe it’s even not worth opening it again.”
Didn’t necessarily mean it was a good thing, however.
Her request is met with a dark and quiet laugh, setting the bottle on the counter to run a hand through his hair, pulling at his shirt to cool himself off a small amount. There’s a sheen of sweat that glints against his suntanned skin, against the tattoos, and when he looks to her his gaze is dark, shadowed, haunted. “Help me with cleaning it up? I’m not even sure when we can open it again. She fucking took out over half the stock.” He says, gesturing to the bar behind him, turning his back to her as he looks up at Haai’s nest, charred by strikes of rainbow lightning.
Ringless hands are splayed along the table behind him, cigarette back in his mouth as he shakes his head and ducks it a bit – some small of disbelief coating over his features. He’d never have expected such a volatile reaction, never expected any of it. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps he’d be better off. “Maybe it’s even not worth opening it again.”
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.
