10-11-2022, 09:56 PM
It’s been a rough few days since the trouble he’d caused on Edge plate, effectively grounded to POINT plate or the Core when taking Savera out, alongside the terrible patrols in the Drench he’s forced to do again and again). But it beats being trapped within the confines of his family Manor. At least this way he can venture out, get a drink, ignore everything that’s happened since before he has to get ready for another patrol.
At least this time he gets the chance to adjust his sleep schedule. It’s late by now, the moon gracing the top part of the Plate as he wanders by the little manmade river of the reservoirs on Bratena Sector, heading directly for the bar that sits next to the Unity Garden – something that makes his stomach both twist and laugh at the audacity of calling it a unified garden of sorts.
How could it be when everything was still so severely divided?
Either way, perhaps a few good drinks would burn those thoughts away. As he slips in, a few people greet him – suddenly he wonders if he’s a regular at this point. Is that a good thing? Should he stay away longer? Anxiety eats at his stomach with the thought but he picks a booth mostly out of the way, slumping down into it as a waiter slips by and asks if he wants his usual, and Sunjata decides that yes he wants his usual, and yes he’s come here far too fucking often these days.
Regardless, he doesn’t seem to be in the mood, sore and stiff and exhausted by the bags on his face, sinking back into his seat to stare at the ceiling until the drink comes and he can push away his thoughts a little bit longer.
At least this time he gets the chance to adjust his sleep schedule. It’s late by now, the moon gracing the top part of the Plate as he wanders by the little manmade river of the reservoirs on Bratena Sector, heading directly for the bar that sits next to the Unity Garden – something that makes his stomach both twist and laugh at the audacity of calling it a unified garden of sorts.
How could it be when everything was still so severely divided?
Either way, perhaps a few good drinks would burn those thoughts away. As he slips in, a few people greet him – suddenly he wonders if he’s a regular at this point. Is that a good thing? Should he stay away longer? Anxiety eats at his stomach with the thought but he picks a booth mostly out of the way, slumping down into it as a waiter slips by and asks if he wants his usual, and Sunjata decides that yes he wants his usual, and yes he’s come here far too fucking often these days.
Regardless, he doesn’t seem to be in the mood, sore and stiff and exhausted by the bags on his face, sinking back into his seat to stare at the ceiling until the drink comes and he can push away his thoughts a little bit longer.