ransom notes keep falling out your mouth, mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs
speak no fear, no i don't believe you. you don't care a bit. you don't care a little bit.
speak no fear, no i don't believe you. you don't care a bit. you don't care a little bit.
“Noted.” He comments equally quietly. Because he’s done quite a wonderful job of tearing his throat up recently – the ghosting of blood on his tongue is evident with how he suddenly swallows as if it’s there. It isn’t, thankfully, and he’s lucky that he’s gotten his voice back.
So he takes a slow inhale, head tilting toward her as she places her hand on his scaled arm, the pressure and heat of her hand sparking warmth into his scales, and his gaze lifts to meet her face. “He is.” A regimen of tea, of not smoking, of not drinking, of trying to use his voice as little as possible. He’d fucked that last one up recently, but it was understandable given the circumstances. The rest of it, though? That's all him. The closed off quiet pillar of a man - so much of his own father creeping into his mind, drawing his paranoia mixed with the overprotectiveness of the dragon that laid within his skin.
It was a difficult combination, one he's had to navigate incredibly carefully. It's easier to not get trapped up or caught if you didn't speak, he supposes.
Still, he tilts his head away to peer back into the flames, making no move to do anything else – still as a pillar of quiet frustration and rage, on edge as if he’s waiting for the next tragedy to strike. It wouldn’t be far from the truth, honestly, with the track record they have. He’s sunk so deep into his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Aidon’s approach until after the dragon’s clawed foot rests on his arm. His attention snaps to it, shoulders slumping slightly as he reaches up with the hand Aidon doesn’t have trapped by his foot, and moves to scratch at the dragon’s scales under his neck.
If anyone knew where a dragon liked to be scratched, Sunjata does. He is one, after all.
He looks up to meet her gaze then, working his jaw as he remains closed off, incapable of giving himself any leeway to trust anyone anymore. “Did she?” He asks idly, pausing to take a deep breath. “Locke’s okay, right?” He’d liked the man, quite a bit actually, and wouldn’t want anything to have happened permanently to him.
So he takes a slow inhale, head tilting toward her as she places her hand on his scaled arm, the pressure and heat of her hand sparking warmth into his scales, and his gaze lifts to meet her face. “He is.” A regimen of tea, of not smoking, of not drinking, of trying to use his voice as little as possible. He’d fucked that last one up recently, but it was understandable given the circumstances. The rest of it, though? That's all him. The closed off quiet pillar of a man - so much of his own father creeping into his mind, drawing his paranoia mixed with the overprotectiveness of the dragon that laid within his skin.
It was a difficult combination, one he's had to navigate incredibly carefully. It's easier to not get trapped up or caught if you didn't speak, he supposes.
Still, he tilts his head away to peer back into the flames, making no move to do anything else – still as a pillar of quiet frustration and rage, on edge as if he’s waiting for the next tragedy to strike. It wouldn’t be far from the truth, honestly, with the track record they have. He’s sunk so deep into his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Aidon’s approach until after the dragon’s clawed foot rests on his arm. His attention snaps to it, shoulders slumping slightly as he reaches up with the hand Aidon doesn’t have trapped by his foot, and moves to scratch at the dragon’s scales under his neck.
If anyone knew where a dragon liked to be scratched, Sunjata does. He is one, after all.
He looks up to meet her gaze then, working his jaw as he remains closed off, incapable of giving himself any leeway to trust anyone anymore. “Did she?” He asks idly, pausing to take a deep breath. “Locke’s okay, right?” He’d liked the man, quite a bit actually, and wouldn’t want anything to have happened permanently to him.
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.
