Sinjir is, in fact, often violent, and often polite. The two don't have to be separate.
"Oh, yes," says Sinjir. His eyes, calculating, never actually leave Dorian. "Who are you?"
A beat, as Sinjir's hands tighten. He makes the decision to just go ahead and ask: what's the catch? There's always a catch, when an oasis arises out of the desert, literally or figuratively. When life is rescued from the jaws of death. There's debts owed, if not in an economic sense then in the sort of deep blood magic that Sinjir has barely touched. Magic runs deep; it's life, and it's death. There are spells and bindings out there that make Sinjir's power look like a trickle of water next to a raging river.
The desert brims with that kind of power. Where a jungle is a hotbed of life, a desert is a hotbed of magic. It wells from the ground, whips in the dust.
Sinjir can feel it heavy in the air, here.
"Storm's coming," he notes, and whatever drink he gets first, water or alcohol, goes straight down his throat.
no subject
"Oh, yes," says Sinjir. His eyes, calculating, never actually leave Dorian. "Who are you?"
A beat, as Sinjir's hands tighten. He makes the decision to just go ahead and ask: what's the catch? There's always a catch, when an oasis arises out of the desert, literally or figuratively. When life is rescued from the jaws of death. There's debts owed, if not in an economic sense then in the sort of deep blood magic that Sinjir has barely touched. Magic runs deep; it's life, and it's death. There are spells and bindings out there that make Sinjir's power look like a trickle of water next to a raging river.
The desert brims with that kind of power. Where a jungle is a hotbed of life, a desert is a hotbed of magic. It wells from the ground, whips in the dust.
Sinjir can feel it heavy in the air, here.
"Storm's coming," he notes, and whatever drink he gets first, water or alcohol, goes straight down his throat.