SUNJATA
angel loves to keep me spinning, much too high to see
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
that all these chains have started thinning & hell is breaking free
“You’re welcome.” He whispers back, letting her take as much time as she needs to withdraw from him – moving toward the bathroom where she can dry off. And Sunjata, in the meantime, crouches before the fireplace, placing a few logs within and a bit of crumpled up paper and leaves to get the fire started. He pulls out his lighter, letting it light, fiddling with the logs to make sure they catch before he’s pausing to pull out a cigarette, using the lighter to light that as well when she returns.
He drags from it, letting the smoke settle within him and calm any nerves that aren’t quite numbed yet from the alcohol, lifting his gaze from the flame to Hotaru as she arrives, dressed and dried for the most part, watching as she extends the scratchy pants that the Inn often offered to their guests. He takes it, leaving the cigarette hanging in between his lips, managing a soft snort before pushing his longer hair back, the ends falling around his shoulders at this point in wet, streaked waves. “Mm, well, here’s hoping they fit.” He murmurs, moving to stand.
His gaze lingers on her a moment more before he’s stepping over into the bathroom, nicking the door shut behind him and shedding out of the clothes that are soaking wet, tossing them in the tub with her own to deal with later. By the time he’s done, his hair is damp now, no longer dripping, and his skin is mostly dry. He finds that the pants do indeed fit, but the shirt he’s found doesn’t, not in his broad shoulders. So instead, he’s forced to emerge without one, with all the new scars on display (most notably, the large ones that trail down both sides of his neck, tearing out the compass tattoo’s northern points, and the new little NW etched under his tattoo for Lusea).
“Pants fit. 'M surprised.” He hums, the cigarette now down to its dregs as he puts it out by tossing it into the fire, kneeling before it to poke and prod to make sure it’ll start up fully to go all night. He sits back on his heels, glancing over at Hotaru. “Warm enough?” He supposes it doesn't matter once they get in the bed, Sunjata able to radiate enough heat for the both of them. But still, he can't help but to ask.
He drags from it, letting the smoke settle within him and calm any nerves that aren’t quite numbed yet from the alcohol, lifting his gaze from the flame to Hotaru as she arrives, dressed and dried for the most part, watching as she extends the scratchy pants that the Inn often offered to their guests. He takes it, leaving the cigarette hanging in between his lips, managing a soft snort before pushing his longer hair back, the ends falling around his shoulders at this point in wet, streaked waves. “Mm, well, here’s hoping they fit.” He murmurs, moving to stand.
His gaze lingers on her a moment more before he’s stepping over into the bathroom, nicking the door shut behind him and shedding out of the clothes that are soaking wet, tossing them in the tub with her own to deal with later. By the time he’s done, his hair is damp now, no longer dripping, and his skin is mostly dry. He finds that the pants do indeed fit, but the shirt he’s found doesn’t, not in his broad shoulders. So instead, he’s forced to emerge without one, with all the new scars on display (most notably, the large ones that trail down both sides of his neck, tearing out the compass tattoo’s northern points, and the new little NW etched under his tattoo for Lusea).
“Pants fit. 'M surprised.” He hums, the cigarette now down to its dregs as he puts it out by tossing it into the fire, kneeling before it to poke and prod to make sure it’ll start up fully to go all night. He sits back on his heels, glancing over at Hotaru. “Warm enough?” He supposes it doesn't matter once they get in the bed, Sunjata able to radiate enough heat for the both of them. But still, he can't help but to ask.
every choice, every lie, demons that he kept inside
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
angel now that i've stopped spinning, could you come clean?
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.
