i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
The tuft of gold that feels like velvet brushing along his stubbled cheek is a slight surprise, but a welcome one. One that has him almost giving into the panther shift under his skin – suddenly wondering if hunting with her would be another good memory to go alongside the times Nate had shared his shift to do the same. But it’s too far ahead, too many plans made, and he sets it aside in his mind to think on for a later date, instead squeezing her a little bit tighter as he hums a nod.
He didn’t know where she lived, didn’t know that she moved – but he’d moved a few times since as well. One, at least in the recent year too, from the hole of the refuge into the brothel that seemed to at least be bustling with life these days. “Academy it is.” He agrees, and when she goes to answer his second question, he feels the gentle head-butt of a touch and his hand lifts to run through her golden hair, nuzzling his cheek in slightly in return, before he stands to slip out.
It doesn’t take him long, however, returning with a platter with a few plates atop it. One, topped with a few chocolate drizzled croissants (sweeter than the one she’d started eating and left on the balcony before retrieving it from a potential rogue Hel), pancakes with a sugary, bourbon-like syrup, and some eggs. It’s complete with silverware and two cups of warm coffee (because tea wasn’t quite as popular in Torchline these days, but an abundance of coffee always seemed in season), sweetened up the way he remembers she liked it, flashing her an easier smile now that his macaw feathers have tucked themselves away again and he seems a bit more in control of his emotions. “Want to eat on the balcony?” He’s sure they can hold their own against the attempted attack of hungry birds.
He didn’t know where she lived, didn’t know that she moved – but he’d moved a few times since as well. One, at least in the recent year too, from the hole of the refuge into the brothel that seemed to at least be bustling with life these days. “Academy it is.” He agrees, and when she goes to answer his second question, he feels the gentle head-butt of a touch and his hand lifts to run through her golden hair, nuzzling his cheek in slightly in return, before he stands to slip out.
It doesn’t take him long, however, returning with a platter with a few plates atop it. One, topped with a few chocolate drizzled croissants (sweeter than the one she’d started eating and left on the balcony before retrieving it from a potential rogue Hel), pancakes with a sugary, bourbon-like syrup, and some eggs. It’s complete with silverware and two cups of warm coffee (because tea wasn’t quite as popular in Torchline these days, but an abundance of coffee always seemed in season), sweetened up the way he remembers she liked it, flashing her an easier smile now that his macaw feathers have tucked themselves away again and he seems a bit more in control of his emotions. “Want to eat on the balcony?” He’s sure they can hold their own against the attempted attack of hungry birds.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?
am i a villain or a saint?
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.
