From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass
There was sweat on her brow and her ponytail was coming loose as she made her way through the city. It was still something to get over, the fact that these people did not operate completely underground. She was having a hard time dealing with the heat, but the air was a hell of a lot clearer. In light of the sort of questions she had, she was directed to the governor, a man named 'Sunjata' - if she was remembering correctly.
One particularly helpful boy said he'd seen the new governor at the 'Slagveld'. Where the hell was that, she'd asked, and now she was struggling to keep up with him through the crowded marketplace. He was rambling on about how it was where people trained to fight, and this and that, but she couldn't catch that last bit over the humdrum of the city.
Packed spaces were nothing new to Aurelia but, when they finally entered the building she was nonetheless relieved to escape the crowds. It seemed like some of the people knew she didn't belong, staring at her with daggers.
The little boy quickly ran past the rings, where fists and sweat and spit flew. It reminded her of the days spent training with her partner, when he was still her mentor. She stopped and watched for a moment.
"Over here!" the boy called. Aurelia turned to see him standing by a doorframe.
She walked over and said with a smile, "thank you for showing me the way."
He said nothing, instead lifting up an expectant hand. Aurelia raised her eyebrows. After a moment, she obliged and pulled out a few pieces of copper. He made a sour face and spat at her before taking off with it.
"Hey, you little-" she turned to grab him. He was already gone, though. She used the gloved part of her hand to wipe the spittle off of her shirt, grumbling to herself.
10-23-2020, 05:00 AM (This post was last modified: 10-23-2020, 05:01 AM by Sunjata.)
SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself
It had been a surprisingly busy day, the first in a while since Sunjata had started the Slagveld. It was always nice to have a partner or two for the boxing ring, better if there were more to continue to benefit from the ring as a means of learning to fight. Regardless, Sunjata wasn’t picky. It was being used, and that was the entire reason why he put it there – definitely not because of the space in the attic that had become his home since his last burned down, definitely not because of the secret guild that sat above everyone’s heads.
Today, however, as busy as it was Sunjata had used it as a distraction from most of his attempts at figuring out the layout of the government things he has planned. He’s stepped out of the ring, off to the side, the tattoos from Safrin along both arms have the stars and planets shifting subtly while he grabs a glass of water, heart thundering beneath bronze, scarred skin.
The sound of someone disgruntled, however, does capture the Flood’s attention – steel gaze lifting above the crowd to spot the boy as he runs out of the Slagveld. Unsure of what’s occurred, Sunjata slips closer toward the woman the boy had stood beside just prior – setting the glass down as he approaches, peering out the door once he’s reached her side. “They can be a bit of a handful at times.” He rumbles toward her, accented voice cutting through the air as he returns his gaze to her.
“What brings you to the Slagveld?” He asks, head tilting slightly, a crookedly feline smile lifting the edges of his lips. He peers down at her – watchful, patient, perhaps a small amount arrogant – though it’s no surprise, given the lightning scars that race across his chest and one of his arms, the myriad of tattoos that flesh out his shoulders and arms, the large burn scar that cuts through one of his feathered tattoos, the compass that sits on both sides of his neck, one over a heavy scar that trails down his neck, and the heavy dusting of silvery ascended scars beneath his ears.
He’s watchful for a reason, curious in as much as a cat is.
and you don't want no help, oh well that's the story to tell
No permission needed for power play!
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.
10-23-2020, 08:15 AM (This post was last modified: 10-23-2020, 08:16 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass
When Aurelia looked up to find who the voice belonged to, she was taken aback by a rather handsome man. He looked as though he'd just stepped out of the ring, she could tell by the glisten of sweat and the flaring of his nostrils. He towered over her, almost intimidating. If only such a thing could intimidate Aurelia. No, what made her think twice about ever crossing this man was not his size or strength, but his scars. Where one ended, another began. Each mark, whether it was tattoo or scar, seemed to manifest his story right there on his darkened skin. If only she was some kind of intuitive, able to decipher the hidden words on each line.
She was staring, and she realized this. She took a step back so that she could look at him without craning her neck. For her, that was odd, since she was not particularly short. He was just exceptionally tall, which, for some reason, was irritating.
"My- uhm-" she cleared her throat awkwardly, face flushed, "I'm Aurelia. Nice to eat you- meet you! I was told to come here to talk to the governor. I forgot his name, but there's gotta be just the one, right? I have some questions about the Voice? I'm an 'outlander' and apparently, I'm not even in the same world anymore," her irritation was starting to build back up, "I need to talk to someone who might know how I can fix this, or.. has any answers at all."
She felt incredibly stupid, this all felt incredibly stupid. Ridiculous. She had to be dreaming. This is all so unreal! And why does everyone in this god-forsaken city have to be so hot!?
anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself
It doesn’t surprise him that she stares – he gets a lot of that, whether it be from height or the scars, either way he’s grown used to it. Born and raised in the limelight as it were, regardless if he wanted it or not. Someone nearly always had an eye on him, until he’d arrived here, that is. She takes a step back and Sunjata remains where he stands, gaze drifting from where the boy had gone back to her, that feline grin plastered to his face.
Brows raise in all that same amusement at her blunder, quickly fixed as a low chuckle leaves him. “There is just the one. Congratulations, Aurelia, you’ve found him. I’m Sunjata.” That smile remains, though it’s paired with a playful half bow before he’s turning away from her briefly to peer through the rest of the Slagveld to see if there’s a quiet space to speak – when there is none, the office just up the stairs would have to do, and he peers back at her while he listens to the rest of her questions. “I can’t say I have answers, but I can certainly try.” It’s worth a shot at least – being an Outlander himself, trying to make a place within the world he found himself in.
It was certainly an adventure, to say the least.
He extends an arm out toward the stairs off to the side, to give her a point to guide herself. “Come with me, it’ll be quieter.” A brief offering to the woman, before he’s moving, slipping through the crowd with ease and practice, hopeful that she follows. And once the stairs are reached, he hangs a left into an office of sorts, a bit messy here and there, but sat upon the side is Haai, the wolfish magpie griffin raising her head to peer at the guest before she settles on her bed again. He gestures for her to take a seat on the other side of the table, while he sits at his usual spot, pulling out a cigarette from a drawer and quickly lighting it up, letting the smoke linger in curls around his nose and the edges of his lips before he exhales a plume toward the door. “So, where would you like to start?” His steel gaze focuses on her again, lingering on the panes of her face as if he’s trying to memorize her.
and you don't want no help, oh well that's the story to tell
No permission needed for power play!
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.
10-23-2020, 08:12 PM (This post was last modified: 10-23-2020, 08:14 PM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass
Aurelia's discomfort and anxiety was only slightly eased by the fact that he was the governor. She could not mirror his smiling, playful demeanor and his charm was soon lost on her. Yes, she had found who she was looking for, but that didn't mean everything would be fine. He made no promises for giving her answers and that was surely a disappointment. She nodded in understanding anyway. She would be grateful that he had the grace to humor her.
Her eyes scanned across the room to the staircase that he gestured towards. She let him lead the way through the throng of people that have gathered for the fights. It was an office, his, judging by the way he so comfortably sauntered in. She hesitated in the doorway, examining the details. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of his pet, catching its dark eyes. She'd seen creatures similar to it but, when she'd met them they were not nearly as polite. They would've sooner eaten her.
Still, Sunjata signaled for her to take a seat and she obliged, uncertainly eyeing his companion as she did. She sat rigidly. Even in her own city she was never in such fine company; she did not fit in with this setting and she knew it. Still... she had never seen a governor with such an array of scars. They were normally the politician type but... he seemed a bit different.
She met his stony gaze at his question, "I'll just start from the beginning. I've been telling everyone that I'm a hunter, but that's not entirely true. I'm a bounty hunter. I live in an underground city called Oreville, where magic is illegal. I was on the job with my partner. We were trying to capture a particularly powerful mage. An archmage is what we call them. He cast some kind of spell on me, and before I knew it I was here. I think he put me here, and I have no idea how to get back," she leaned forward, the desperation and exasperation all too clear as she went on, "but I have to figure out a way. 'Impossible' is not an answer I can accept. I have younger sisters at home who have no idea what's happened to me and apparently I have no means of even communicating with them! Our parents are gone and they've been relying on me. I don't know what will happen to them now," she fell back against the back of the chair in defeat, bringing her thumb up to her teeth and biting the nail. She glanced over at the griffin and then back at Sunjata, "I can't just stay here."
anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself
Her discomfort isn’t lost on him, but there’s no way that the Flood can try and ease it. It had taken him months to grow comfortable within Caido, and even then there were times where he still was out of his element. Here in Torchline, however, this was his home now. This was where he was the most comfortable, even if people tried to throw him off balance. And now that he’s no longer sick, he can settle into the role with ease, practicing a mix of his own rebellious self and that of what his father had wished him to become – as much as he hated the latter.
He drags off the cigarette while she speaks, focusing on her face and the questions, the information she’s laid out. None of it makes sense, but there is a kinship there – an understanding. He’d come from similar, he’d arrived from a place not so unlike her own it seemed. And the answer to her question of getting back, well, surprisingly he has an answer for that – though it isn’t particularly one she’ll enjoy.
Haai decides that Aurelia isn’t a threat and the griffin rolls over, closing her eyes to doze off while Sunjata figures out where to even start. One more drag off the cigarette with the curling smoke, he flicks the ash into an ashtray and leans back in his chair. “A bounty hunter would fit in well here. That’s what I told people I did when I arrived.” It was easier than explaining everything else – prince turned rebel, turned enemy.
“To start, well, they’re right. There isn’t a way to get back. But, if it helps, you weren’t exactly… Plucked here with nothing to remain.” The cigarette rolls in between his fingers as he recalls what Maea had once told him. “There’s a version of you still there, just as there is one of me back where I’m from.” But for the first time, perhaps, Aurelia would find a frown gracing his mouth. “I came from a place called Korofi. We didn’t have magic or shifters or anything. And one day I was crossing the threshold of the place I was staying at and ended up here. No rhyme, no reason. Left my sister behind, too. I just hope that the version of me is taking care of her.” Shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, another drag from the cigarette.
“But it was the Voice that had brought you here just as she brought me here, no way to get back that anyone has found.”
and you don't want no help, oh well that's the story to tell
No permission needed for power play!
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.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass
Aurelia stopped chewing on her nail. Was that really true? Could there really be an alternate version of her still at home, taking care of her sisters? If that was the case, then...
No, she couldn't give up that easily. It wouldn't be right to just let go. There had to be something, somewhere, someway, somehow. She couldn't let some other version of herself, which wasn't really her, just steal her life like this.
Her eyes had wandered in her thought, but when Sunjata started talking about where he came from, her attention snapped back to him. Melancholic understanding softened her expression as she watched his become a frown. She knew there were others like her but, she had not talked to any of them about their own experiences yet. His casual shrug took her by surprise, though. He must have been in this place for a long time, must have come to terms with his fate. To be so callous about losing his own family.
Any hope Aurelia had of getting home was dashed. If she had an ounce less of self-control, she would've burst into tears. Instead, she used her sadness to fuel her anger.
"How can I sit here while someone else lives my life?" she finally blurted out, brows threaded together. Her hands became more animated, tossing them in the air in exasperation as she spoke, "how many people like us are there, trapped here? And who is this Voice that people keep telling me about? What right does it have to uproot us like this? It's taken everything from us, you know first hand! How can you be so... calm?!?"
anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself
The anger was understandable, really. The Flood doesn’t blame her, especially not with it being so fresh and sudden. A shift that took some getting used to, really. Calmly, he remains sitting back in his chair, gaze following the flailing of her fists, the way her brows thread together, the way the frustration and anger erupts out in the words that leave her lips.
First things first; how could she sit there while someone else lives her life? “Because you can’t go back.” Not yet anyway, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to give her false hope. As for the second? Well, he drags from the cigarette again, holding it in a fair amount longer than the previous pulls, before his gaze lands on her again and he abandons the cigarette momentarily in the ashtray. “I’ve been here… Three years now. If I’m being honest, being here is a lot better than home. And there is the chance that they could appear here.” Just as Lusea from Korofi had, before Caido had taken her from him again. “I’ve lost too many people. If I can imagine my sister well taken care of back home, then I’ll cling to it rather than her arriving here.” Tattooed shoulders rise and fall in shrug for that.
As for the Voice? Well, that’s another subject entirely. “There are gods here. The Old gods and the New gods. The Voice is a new god. She was imprisoned in a place called the Hollowed Grounds for a few hundred years before she got out with the help of Outlanders.” He imagines she’s smart enough to connect the dots. “There’s this… Rivalry between the old gods and the new gods. Makes things difficult if you’re in the middle.” He tries to laugh about it, but there’s the edge of awkwardness within it, the starry tattoos on his arms slowing in their shift of orbit.
Gods how it sucked to be stuck in the middle, unsure of the pathway forward that wouldn’t end in more heartbreak.
and you don't want no help, oh well that's the story to tell
No permission needed for power play!
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.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass
"So the Gods here actually have a say in our destiny," Aurelia reflected on this fact since it was a foreign reality to her. She had never been religious at all, always wrapped up in providing for her family or fending for herself. The idea of a God watching over her or pulling the strings had been mere passing thoughts - if she had such a moment to contemplate her own existence. She'd never considered that there was some cosmic... path laid out for her, or even a purpose for her other than to survive. She had operated off of instincts and most of the time they kept her safe, that was all she needed and she was the only one to thank. Or was she? Was there truly some... being beyond her fathomable universe that looked out for her? Specifically, her.
Ha! How fucking unlikely. A smirk pressed against her cheeks and she chuckled quietly to herself, resting her face in her hands. What a crazy, impossible, profoundly unlucky series of events she'd found herself wrapped up in! After a few moments of pulling her shit together, Aurelia lifted her head back up and stared at Sunjata with perhaps the deadest set of eyes.
She wasn't one for smoking. In fact, she wasn't naturally a self-indulgent person at all. However, things were different now and they would always be, so... just this once, she would indulge (if she was allowed to do so).
anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself
“They do.” He replies, head tilting a bit as he watches her hold her head in her hands. Smoke filters up from the ashtray from the discarded cigarette, he remains leaned back in his chair, eventually tearing his gaze away to look out the window at the passing sun, fiddling idly with the ring of a crescent moon sat upon his finger. He spins it a few times, letting the silence flood the room, listening as she chuckles quietly to herself, the weight of it all settling. And when he meets her eyes, he knows the feeling all too well.
At her request, however, he pulls two cigarettes out – one for her and another for him. He lights his own, before handing her the fiery match so she might light her own. And while she does, he reaches into a drawer, grabbing two empty glasses and a bottle of smoky whiskey he’d stashed away. He pours a bit into both, sliding a glass her way, a knowing look sent her way as he leans back once more and takes a sip of the alcohol.
“The Old God heralds are the ones you’re more likely to meet. There’s Frey, the herald of Rae, focuses on nature and reproduction and the like, followed by Ludo who is the herald of Mort, it guides souls. And then there’s Safrin, the herald of Vi, the god of life.” He pauses, unsure how to even describe his chosen goddess. “She’s brilliant, magnificent.” He takes a second to bite down on the inside of his cheek, casting his gaze back to her. “Extremely rewarding should she task you with something. She attuned me not too long after I arrived.” He begins, flashing her an easy smile. “Attuned are… Shape shifters, I suppose. We can turn into animals. Then there’s the Abandoned, ones gifted with magic. Accepted, which is how I arrived – closest to the gods, nothing particularly special in terms of abilities aside from that. Then there are the Ascended – those connected to the Voice and the New Gods. Far more advanced technology, but they can siphon abilities from others with quite a pleasing bite.” It’s an information dump, but he cocks his head a bit avianlike as he keeps his gaze on her, perhaps some connection to the latter Ascended information and the silvery sheen of scars that circle his neck that appear to have come from fangs.
and you don't want no help, oh well that's the story to tell
No permission needed for power play!
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.
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass
She muffles a cough after lighting the cigarette, surprised by the hit to her lungs even though she always knew this stuff must have been nasty. She took a fuller drag anyway, coughed a bit more, and realized that he had presented her with a glass. Glancing over at the bottle and taking one whiff of the air, she knew this was alcohol. It was damn good stuff, too. It had a smoldering scent that made her nostrils burn. Most alcohols didn't do that. Some had a putrid kind of scent that made her flinch but not many burned before you even have a drop.
Aurelia held it up but, she watched how he drank it first. To be perfectly honest, she wasn't sure she wanted to just down it all in one go. When he merely sipped his, she followed suit. She promptly set the glass down after daring a second, smaller sip. Definitely drinking that slow.
Sunjata began to explain to her about the Old Gods, their heralds, shape shifters, and then the New Gods. She didn't just give him the bare minimum amount of attention, no, she was quite engrossed with these new ideas.
She took another pull from her cigarette. This time she didn't cough nearly as much. This was right when he got to the part about the Ascended. He even showed off the marks they'd left him with. Smoke suddenly billowed out through her nostrils and she spluttered.
"Fuck, that burns!" Once she'd recovered from both what he'd implied and exhaling through her nose, she addressed this new information considerately, "So you're a shapeshifter- an... Attuned, is that what you call it? I guess that's pretty amazing..." she realized the ash of her cigarette had grown quite lengthy, and leaned over carefully to tap it off into the ash tray. Settling back, she continued, "where I'm from, like I told you, magic is illegal. It's... you know, if you used it, you were outcast. The world I lived in was incredibly harsh. We didn't have cities like this above ground, not at all. That's... it was just unheard of. People tried, but the wildlife is apparently far more aggressive and dangerous than the animals and plants that exist here. I mean... if you went aboveground, the mortality rate tripled," she swallowed, her throat feeling a little dry. She kind of wished she didn't have to tell him this next part, "we would exile magic-users out there, just banish them into the wilds in the hopes that that would kill them. If it somehow didn't, and they tried to stir up trouble or make a name for themselves... it was my job to go in and catch them. Most of the time, I would... kill them. Some, I tortured. I never saw this kind of stuff as," she hesitated, knowing this was certainly not going to fly as an excuse to someone like him, "as something good, something to be blessed with by a God," but the alcohol was slowly getting to her and her social inhibitions came tumbling down. Before she could even comprehend it, she was rambling about her life story, "My father was killed by a mage when I was.. oh, fuck, five? six? Burned alive in our family's shop, and everything else with him. My family's lives... it all just went to shit after that, we had nothing without him or the shop. My father didn't have enemies, it was... just evil. That kind of power shouldn't be in the hands of people. When they want to take something from you, if they're angry at you, or sometimes for no reason at all... they'll try to hurt you, and they'll do whatever they can to."
But some small part of her wondered if she really meant that, the same part of her capable of feeling regret. Her green eyes faltered.
anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself
She coughs and sputters from the cigarette and the alcohol and Sunjata simply remains quiet, not saying anything to gesture whether he thinks she should stop or slow down. If anything, he offers a crooked, slightly encouraging smirk. “Takes some getting used to.” He rumbles, taking another pull from his cigarette and letting the scent of it meld with everything else before he exhales a grey plume.
As she responds of him being a shapeshifter, he simply nods, letting a few partial shifts appear — sharp fangs interlaced with his smile, navy feathers that trickle down his shoulders, filling in the outlines of the tattoos there. And from his crown, dark horns edged in gold spiral out to circle his head. Only a few, to simply show off that he isn’t talking out of his ass. But he stays silent despite the fangs and horns and feathers if only to hear her words — sipping idly from the whiskey and dragging from the cigarette.
He wonders if they might get along, given the sad similarities of their pasts. “You’d likely agree with the Old Gods in that regard. Abandoned, are typically aptly named.” There’s a quiet hum of consideration that leaves him with it, of those that were abandoned that had proven themselves to the gods and gained favor, but he doesn’t muse it — drawing silent again.
Only when she’s done speaking of her past, the alcohol burning away the reservations she has. He doesn’t blame her, not for having grown up that way. Sunjata was similar, though he’d become a killer by survival if only to survive his father’s monstrosity. So he leans forward, bracing both elbows on the table, horned head tilting to the side slightly as he flicks some ash from the cigarette. “First things first, I want to say that the abandoned here aren’t your enemies. People are shitty. Doesn’t mean the entirety of their race or abilities are. Just them. That being said, there is the possibility that the gods can help with an item of sorts that disables magic.” He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but given the amount of impossible made possible things he’s found in this world, it’s worth a shot.
As for the rest of it, he downs the rest of the whiskey, pouring a bit more for himself and offering the bottle to her should she want more. “Where I came from we didn’t have magic or shifts or anything. It was a harsh world, full of flooding and disaster, full of terrible men that would’ve done exactly what happened to your father without so much as a reason to.” Feathered shoulders shrug lightly. “It takes some adjustments to get used to the strangeness of it all here, but I can assure you that not everyone here is terrible.” That crooked and fanged smile reappears.
and you don't want no help, oh well that's the story to tell
No permission needed for power play!
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.
10-31-2020, 05:40 AM (This post was last modified: 10-31-2020, 05:41 AM by Aurelia.)
Aurelia
I never had a chance to be soft I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass
Aurelia didn't see him partially shift as she prattled on, staring more at the cigarette in her hands and the glass on the table than she did at him. Being openly honest was hard, even after the fact, so she was finding it a challenge to meet his eyes. When she was done speaking, she pressed the cigarette between her lips.
As she did so, she looked up - and dropped the cigarette in shock. Her back slammed against the back of the seat and she fumbled for the burning stick of death. "Ow- damn!" she'd caught it by its cherry. Her eyes zipped back up to Sunjata. The horns on his head and the fangs protruding from his mouth were, frankly, frightening. At least the deep blue feathers that sprouted from his arm were... kind of pretty?
"What the hell!? I take it back, it's not amazing anymore," she remarked sarcastically. Her face became flushed from the adrenaline that had just coursed through her - and probably the alcohol as well. Nevertheless, she relaxed. She finished putting out the cigarette in the ash tray. She shook her head, saying nothing else as he shared his own story. It took her a few more minutes to be somewhat comfortable with meeting his gaze. For all the distraction that his out-of-place horns caused, she had heard his words. Well, the important ones anyway.
She shook her head silently when he offers her more alcohol. Her glass was still mostly full from the last pour. She didn't have any intention of getting plastered. Though, since she was reminded of it, she did take another sip. It was warm but at least it was smooth. As she held the glass in her lap, she turned it in a slow circle. Her gaze wandered around the space around them, though she wasn't looking at the room.
Aurelia finally cleared her throat and said, "Maybe you are right... Maybe my views on magic would be different if I grew up in a place like... this," her eyes leveled back on his, "Don't know what I'll do now, though. I've lost everything except for the clothes on my back, and if it really is impossible to get home then... I have got to talk to Jack about more permanent arrangements," but she didn't skip a beat as she furrowed her brows and moved on from the topic with a smirk, "you know, for a governor, you aren't really the politician type. When I came to meet you, I expected a much more... well, I don't know what I expected. It sure as hell didn't involve horns and fangs!" She let out a breathy laugh.
anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself
He likely should’ve expected a stark reaction from her – but he doesn’t, and it’s a misstep on his end that has him rooted in place while she drops her cigarette, fumbles for it, snatches it up all while looking a bit like a trapped wild animal. But he doesn’t pull the shifts back in – no, she’d likely see stranger things as her time in Torchline went on. He keeps them as they were, horns heavy and spiraled, feathers navy and smooth against his skin, and the fangs that ironically mimic that of his husband’s on an easy display with the smile he gives her.
“You think so?” He rumbles, half between a joke and half not, before he snorts and fills his glass and offers her own. As she shakes her head, he offers a short dip of his own before placing the bottle back on his side, taking a sip from the glass as she does too. And he falls silent from his other barrage of words, leaning back in his chair.
He can’t help but to nod as his steel gaze scans her face before her own eyes meet his. “It takes some getting used to.” He agrees, a bit softer, aiming to seem a bit less threatening or off. The mention of Jack has a brow raising, however, the easy smile shifting into something of a roguish smirk, playful and amused. “Jack, huh? I’d be careful around him if I were you.” He looks down to the glass before him, face seeming to scream ‘not like he has any experience with it, no ma’am’, when he can starkly recall Jack and his goons beating the shit out of him.
Ah well, his gaze lifts to catch her smirk, to hear the tones of her voice that manage to bring a bark of a laugh from him. Bracing his arms on the desk in front of him, he leans toward her then, that grin of amusement remaining. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Aurelia.” It’s a low rumble of honesty, a wink shot her way before he’s leaning back, smug as a cat. “You’ll find that Torchline isn’t exactly what most people would consider proper. You’ll find that her dealings and going’s on are much the same.” A slippery sort, full of corruption even at the top – someone that the smugglers were supposed to outwit and keep quiet, simply had another dangerous guild in their midst, one that Sunjata owned as well.
“If you want some place that seems more traditional, might I suggest Halo? Though… You’d have to get used to the cold and snow.” A shiver runs down his spine, a sigh purely for dramatics leaving him with a puff of smoke. “Certainly not my taste, but to each their own.”
and you don't want no help, oh well that's the story to tell
No permission needed for power play!
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.
