// 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 //
The griffin is more than content to stare at Bart, even if it’s awkward for the other man. She can see the similarities and Nate has always been one of her favorite people, so it comes as no surprise that she’d warm up to Bart easily if he was anything like Nate. Only time would tell, though, and it’s up to Sunjata to relax in the chair, trying to soothe over the barbs from their meeting all because of a jacket.
Not just any jacket, though, Nate’s jacket.
So he offers the honesty in the fact that they were safe here – avoiding mentioning the whole ordeal with his own father, given the fact that Sunjata’s pretty sure he killed him and whatever happened to Nate was entirely Nate’s story to tell. Perhaps it was even something that Nate wouldn’t share with Sunjata but something he could share to Bart. Which is fine. He understands. He’d be the same in some respects. Sometimes only your siblings understood what it was you went through.
So all he can do is nod, offer a huff of a laugh Bart’s way. “I am absolutely biased.” He rumbles, his accent thickly coating his words in such an opposite way of Bart’s own – but Sunjata relishes in it quietly, like a piece of Nate being back home even if Nate held his accent close to his chest most times. “You want something to drink? Food?” He asks instead, moving to push himself up from the couch, heading into the expanse of kitchen space there is, pulling out the good whiskey and rum and setting them on the counter as he fumbles around for any food left around that Nate had made that lasted since he’d departed.
Not just any jacket, though, Nate’s jacket.
So he offers the honesty in the fact that they were safe here – avoiding mentioning the whole ordeal with his own father, given the fact that Sunjata’s pretty sure he killed him and whatever happened to Nate was entirely Nate’s story to tell. Perhaps it was even something that Nate wouldn’t share with Sunjata but something he could share to Bart. Which is fine. He understands. He’d be the same in some respects. Sometimes only your siblings understood what it was you went through.
So all he can do is nod, offer a huff of a laugh Bart’s way. “I am absolutely biased.” He rumbles, his accent thickly coating his words in such an opposite way of Bart’s own – but Sunjata relishes in it quietly, like a piece of Nate being back home even if Nate held his accent close to his chest most times. “You want something to drink? Food?” He asks instead, moving to push himself up from the couch, heading into the expanse of kitchen space there is, pulling out the good whiskey and rum and setting them on the counter as he fumbles around for any food left around that Nate had made that lasted since he’d departed.
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.
