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
There’s a part of being here that sobers him up, enough to put away the sharp weapons and notes of operations. His attention sweeps over the rest, jackets and furs slung over from the chill of Deepfrost, the trinkets golden and bright that reflect the light around the room as he lights more candles to illuminate it. His steps are a bit steadier, and when he leans against the desk to look at her when she questions if he’s the leader.
“Yep. Third one. The rest either died or didn’t want it.” He shrugs to it, as though it didn’t matter, but his fingers tap along the wood of the desk as he glances around it. “I always had the Overseer position though, until I became the leader of it.” He hums somewhat thoughtfully, before his eyes land on her again and he offers a small smile.
“We agreed you’d be able to do some work for me, if you’d wanted to. So sure, why not?” He doesn’t see the harm in it. She promised his secrets were safe with her. He intends that she keeps it true. “Make yourself comfortable.” He tells her, before pushing off the desk he’d been leaning on. “Aaaand I’m going to change.” It’s a half rumble, stepping a few steps over toward a dresser of sorts, pulling off his shirt to begin with his back to her, bruises along his spine a deep hue in the shadows of the light, tattoos stark as they travel down his shoulder blades in a swath of feathers. And then he focuses on sifting through one of the drawers for some of his things.
“Yep. Third one. The rest either died or didn’t want it.” He shrugs to it, as though it didn’t matter, but his fingers tap along the wood of the desk as he glances around it. “I always had the Overseer position though, until I became the leader of it.” He hums somewhat thoughtfully, before his eyes land on her again and he offers a small smile.
“We agreed you’d be able to do some work for me, if you’d wanted to. So sure, why not?” He doesn’t see the harm in it. She promised his secrets were safe with her. He intends that she keeps it true. “Make yourself comfortable.” He tells her, before pushing off the desk he’d been leaning on. “Aaaand I’m going to change.” It’s a half rumble, stepping a few steps over toward a dresser of sorts, pulling off his shirt to begin with his back to her, bruises along his spine a deep hue in the shadows of the light, tattoos stark as they travel down his shoulder blades in a swath of feathers. And then he focuses on sifting through one of the drawers for some of his things.
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.
