SUNJATA
And what a question that was. “We modified some of the tools my father had with a bit more advanced technology. She didn’t get pulled out because she was connected to a few members of our team that was on the roof. They pulled her up through it.” He offers with a slight shrug. He had swam through it, but he had also positioned himself in a way that made it so he could escape.
As for what happened to the soldiers when they’d been sucked through to the sewers? Well, there had been a few drownings. None that he cared about. War was war, after all, and so long as those nearest to him remained okay, he honestly cared less about the rest of it. “When we got back to headquarters, it was all anyone would call us.” He snorted. “Beers to the flame and flood of Korofi.” He picks up his empty glass in a small makeshift toast before setting it back again on the countertop, that same nostalgic smile on his lips as before.
Poetry, however, seemed like something Jigano might have appreciated. And he listens while Jigano hums a melody before applying improvised words, and for a moment he’s stunned by the words – by the meaning, by the true poetry of it. And it takes him a bit to respond, but when he does, his voice is quiet, rough, somewhat gravely as a softer smile crosses his face. “Thank you.” Wondering if he should write it down and hang it in the bar that would’ve been theirs one day.
As for what happened to the soldiers when they’d been sucked through to the sewers? Well, there had been a few drownings. None that he cared about. War was war, after all, and so long as those nearest to him remained okay, he honestly cared less about the rest of it. “When we got back to headquarters, it was all anyone would call us.” He snorted. “Beers to the flame and flood of Korofi.” He picks up his empty glass in a small makeshift toast before setting it back again on the countertop, that same nostalgic smile on his lips as before.
Poetry, however, seemed like something Jigano might have appreciated. And he listens while Jigano hums a melody before applying improvised words, and for a moment he’s stunned by the words – by the meaning, by the true poetry of it. And it takes him a bit to respond, but when he does, his voice is quiet, rough, somewhat gravely as a softer smile crosses his face. “Thank you.” Wondering if he should write it down and hang it in the bar that would’ve been theirs one day.
come home. don't die so far from the sea—
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.
