// do my worst, shoot the moon, stab the sun. got a curse, on the tip of my tongue
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump. born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //
you go first, and i swear that i'll jump. born to kill, tiny slice of the throat //
There’s quite a few things that Sunjata doesn’t expect. He doesn’t expect the man to whirl around to face him like that, nor does he expect the grit teeth and the jutted chin. But the part that surprises him most is the accent that falls from the other man’s lips, drawing Sunjata’s brows, pinched together, his eyes widening a fraction, before he doubles down on the frustration that builds within him.
“You’re in Torchline.” He half mutters, half hisses, before he’s stepping closer - definitely peering down at the stranger through a dark silver gaze as he scans the jacket. And rather than stating the obvious, ‘are you an Outlander’ or ‘maybe we should get out of the rain and have a chat’, Sunjata’s frustration gets the better of him as he looks the man up and down once again.
“Where’d you get that jacket?” It comes out rough, with an edge, a hint of the storm that feels as though it’s rumbling through Sunjata’s mind.
“You’re in Torchline.” He half mutters, half hisses, before he’s stepping closer - definitely peering down at the stranger through a dark silver gaze as he scans the jacket. And rather than stating the obvious, ‘are you an Outlander’ or ‘maybe we should get out of the rain and have a chat’, Sunjata’s frustration gets the better of him as he looks the man up and down once again.
“Where’d you get that jacket?” It comes out rough, with an edge, a hint of the storm that feels as though it’s rumbling through Sunjata’s mind.
a new pill, or the poison you know, let it spill && i swear that i'll go
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.
