the sea speaks a little more honestly
A brief ghost of a smirk crosses his face with the mention of honest work. Something he had done to an extent, but that wasn’t all of him. He worked and worked hard for the things he wanted, but honesty in the means within it was another story. But she turns now, leans against the window to look at him and he gives her his full attention, only looking down when she does to spot the dagger.
And my, what a dagger it was. Beautiful and brilliant, his favorite weapon out of them all. He’d been given them by Maea, carried one of his own in his boot at all times just in case. And he watches with some hint of appreciation when she presses the sharpness of the blade against her finger, suddenly wondering if gods indeed did bleed — only to watch the ruby blood drip down the blade with a singing sigh of steel.
When she turns the blade to him, he remains, feeling the point touch his skin. “They’re my favorite kind.” He agrees softly, a smile blossoming along his face as he feels a bursting feeling grow from where the blade is pressed. A shiver runs down his spine, goosebumps rising beneath the cloak he wears, twisting his head a small amount as he lets the feeling course through him.
And just like that, the blade is removed. “They’re perhaps one of the most intimate weapons you can use.” He hums somewhat thoughtfully, admittedly distractedly as she shifts the blade along her shoulder and the straps fall away. He watches the dress as it swings to hang from one side before his smoldering gaze finds her face. He can’t help the step toward her he takes, searching her face to try and see what she wants.
“Sometimes one chance is all you need.” A quieter rumble of his accented voice before he gives her a nod. “Yes.” He wants this, immensely.
And my, what a dagger it was. Beautiful and brilliant, his favorite weapon out of them all. He’d been given them by Maea, carried one of his own in his boot at all times just in case. And he watches with some hint of appreciation when she presses the sharpness of the blade against her finger, suddenly wondering if gods indeed did bleed — only to watch the ruby blood drip down the blade with a singing sigh of steel.
When she turns the blade to him, he remains, feeling the point touch his skin. “They’re my favorite kind.” He agrees softly, a smile blossoming along his face as he feels a bursting feeling grow from where the blade is pressed. A shiver runs down his spine, goosebumps rising beneath the cloak he wears, twisting his head a small amount as he lets the feeling course through him.
And just like that, the blade is removed. “They’re perhaps one of the most intimate weapons you can use.” He hums somewhat thoughtfully, admittedly distractedly as she shifts the blade along her shoulder and the straps fall away. He watches the dress as it swings to hang from one side before his smoldering gaze finds her face. He can’t help the step toward her he takes, searching her face to try and see what she wants.
“Sometimes one chance is all you need.” A quieter rumble of his accented voice before he gives her a nod. “Yes.” He wants this, immensely.
to those who are willing to drown
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.
