hellos, goodbyes, a thousand midnights
lost in sleepless lullabies
lost in sleepless lullabies
It isn’t exactly her that he’s seeking out for the ability to dull his senses. In fact when he finds her, it’s the complete opposite. His steel gaze spots the open back of her shirt and the bruises around it, biting back that dragon sense of possessiveness as he heaves a sigh and steps further into the room toward the bar. Just enough, it seems, to overhear the gruff voice of the man talking to her.
Now, usually, Sunjata was level headed enough to not pay too much attention, knowing she could fight her own battles if she needed to. It wasn’t like they were anything but friends, anyway. He doesn’t need to overstep that invisible line they’d laid in the sand. But he arrives, wings tucked in tight still, reaching over the bar brazenly for a glass and his favored whiskey, pouring himself a bit before turning to pour a little in Isla’s glass, in a way that seems to heavily suggest that he’s looming.
He lifts the glass and leans on his elbow, letting his gaze linger on the man propositioning her. “She’s not on the menu.” Comes the deeply accented voice, in part from him rationalizing that he doesn’t need to ward away the patrons before the brothel’s even taken off yet. But there is an air of possessiveness that wraps around him in the tick of his jaw.
Now, usually, Sunjata was level headed enough to not pay too much attention, knowing she could fight her own battles if she needed to. It wasn’t like they were anything but friends, anyway. He doesn’t need to overstep that invisible line they’d laid in the sand. But he arrives, wings tucked in tight still, reaching over the bar brazenly for a glass and his favored whiskey, pouring himself a bit before turning to pour a little in Isla’s glass, in a way that seems to heavily suggest that he’s looming.
He lifts the glass and leans on his elbow, letting his gaze linger on the man propositioning her. “She’s not on the menu.” Comes the deeply accented voice, in part from him rationalizing that he doesn’t need to ward away the patrons before the brothel’s even taken off yet. But there is an air of possessiveness that wraps around him in the tick of his jaw.
the flood
heaven's dreaming thoughtless thoughts,
my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
my friends, we know we'll be ghosts again
totally sniped from odd ilu
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.
