RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
So the theory goes, Sunjata. Ronin doesn't expect to bristle at the sound of the Flood's voice, and yet scales armour his shoulders in place of feathers as the other man announces his presence. Beneath his clothes, they flicker down his biceps and forearms, too, coating his knuckles ebony. "No," he says softly, without emotion. "No, I am not the one who needs an explanation." That's something he owes Safrin.
"I'm just here to give you her regards."
His hands are already leaving his pockets as he turns, and however much distance Jata is trying to put between them, Ronin is determined to close it in a fraction of a second. His right hand hooks around, aiming a vicious blow to the taller man's jaw.
"I'm just here to give you her regards."
His hands are already leaving his pockets as he turns, and however much distance Jata is trying to put between them, Ronin is determined to close it in a fraction of a second. His right hand hooks around, aiming a vicious blow to the taller man's jaw.
show me your darkness.
