// the past is just a bridge we burned down behind us
when we left this town, running from the blinding heat //
when we left this town, running from the blinding heat //
Perhaps he’s come off a bit too strong (he has), with how he embraces her so immediately, letting her go the second that she grasps at his arms. His smile shifts toward a hint apologetic, still lopsided in the scars that settle there, taking a moment to step back and create that distance even as he slightly chews on the inside of his cheek. “You too.” He offers quietly, taking note of the tan from the Torchline sun, an almost envious glimmer of it with how pale he was here in King’s End with how minimal the sunlight had been.
“Of course.” He hums, stepping away for a few moments fully – allowing her to regain her bearings and for him to realize he’s tried so hard to not be awkward with this little reunion that he’s swung so hard into the opposite direction, like pretending nothing happened. It’s something he can curse himself with later, returning to the space she’d claimed as her own, taking a seat opposite of her as he sets the mug down – a warm and not too sweet coffee, spiked with something dark and heavy – exactly how he remembered she liked it.
“How’s it been in Torchline? How’ve you been?” He asks, sitting up a bit straighter in the chair, looking as if the weight of the world that had barreled down on him were lifted.
“Of course.” He hums, stepping away for a few moments fully – allowing her to regain her bearings and for him to realize he’s tried so hard to not be awkward with this little reunion that he’s swung so hard into the opposite direction, like pretending nothing happened. It’s something he can curse himself with later, returning to the space she’d claimed as her own, taking a seat opposite of her as he sets the mug down – a warm and not too sweet coffee, spiked with something dark and heavy – exactly how he remembered she liked it.
“How’s it been in Torchline? How’ve you been?” He asks, sitting up a bit straighter in the chair, looking as if the weight of the world that had barreled down on him were lifted.
the flood
// of our disaster when we left this town
you can rely on me, i will always let you down //
you can rely on me, i will always let you down //
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.
