SUNJATA
the flood
anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself
saving everybody else to save yourself
That’s where it differs. He does still care. He hadn’t stopped caring since the time he’d agreed to try. And perhaps in the end it was him doing exactly what he always did when they got too close, pushed away and away to save himself under the guise of saving them. It was a repeated cycle and yet Maea was still here — just as Hotaru had been for him before, when he’d pushed her away and crawled back, pushing away and crawling back again and again.
At least, before the marriage, when things ended for good.
At this moment? He doesn’t think of her, doesn’t think of Phoebe. He doesn’t even think of Lusea, not with Maea within his arms, real and soft and silky smooth skin to run his calloused hands over. But he’s not sure how much he can get away with, not wanting to push her away when he was so comfortable with her here right now.
Her forehead touches his and her nose brushes by his own as well, and he hums a quiet sound to her in response to it, head tilting up slightly to brush his nose by hers again — smelling hints of whiskey and snow, parchment and ink. Something so steady compared to himself. He opens his eyes again, steel gaze shifting from her pale eyes to her lips briefly, lingering — something longing in them but unsure.
Unsure if he can replace the feeling of the forced kiss with one of his own tenderness. Unsure if she’d even let him. And so he remains quietly shifting his gaze along them again before his eyes focus on her own again. “You’re cold.” He says quietly, not like it bothers him, but he shifts enough to pull the blankets up over their shoulders, keeping her near, nose brushing against her own. “Come here.” He adds, just as gently, shifting that arm beneath her head to pull her up against him now, shifting his head to rest his cheek against her own, sharing as much warmth as he can, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on those lips more than necessary.
At least, before the marriage, when things ended for good.
At this moment? He doesn’t think of her, doesn’t think of Phoebe. He doesn’t even think of Lusea, not with Maea within his arms, real and soft and silky smooth skin to run his calloused hands over. But he’s not sure how much he can get away with, not wanting to push her away when he was so comfortable with her here right now.
Her forehead touches his and her nose brushes by his own as well, and he hums a quiet sound to her in response to it, head tilting up slightly to brush his nose by hers again — smelling hints of whiskey and snow, parchment and ink. Something so steady compared to himself. He opens his eyes again, steel gaze shifting from her pale eyes to her lips briefly, lingering — something longing in them but unsure.
Unsure if he can replace the feeling of the forced kiss with one of his own tenderness. Unsure if she’d even let him. And so he remains quietly shifting his gaze along them again before his eyes focus on her own again. “You’re cold.” He says quietly, not like it bothers him, but he shifts enough to pull the blankets up over their shoulders, keeping her near, nose brushing against her own. “Come here.” He adds, just as gently, shifting that arm beneath her head to pull her up against him now, shifting his head to rest his cheek against her own, sharing as much warmth as he can, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on those lips more than necessary.
and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell
that's the story to tell
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.
