SUNJATA
the flood
i can still see your face looking back through the flames
and i search it, was it worth it?
and i search it, was it worth it?
Here’s hoping. He manages, though his tone is optimistic. After a few moments, however, he’s nestling Nate in beneath him, putting his weight onto the Ascended – searching for his husbands lips with a kiss that hopefully bandaids the problem. And for a moment, it works, Nate’s arms tightening around him and Sunjata leaning in against his husband, playfully offering a lighthearted joke of being carried. This too, falls flat, for a second as Sunjata listens.
Nate doesn’t mind it, which is good. But the fact of Nate having to do it, isn’t good in Sunjata’s mind. Whether that’s right or wrong is hard to say, seeing as he won’t actually admit any of it. And so he simply nestles in close, listening for the next almost stumble of words, a quirk of a smile brought to Sunjata’s shaky, sweaty face. You’re strong. He hums lightly, his free hand moving to press his fingers against Nate’s side. And you aren’t exactly a stick. He murmurs mentally, letting the warmth of that shroud out the pain for a brief moment.
This, too, doesn’t last. Because their foreheads are pressed together and Sunjata’s curls fall into Nate’s raven ones, steel searching blurred steel and blue as his nickname is uttered, as it sounds like it’s forced, and Sunjata forgets about all of the pain, all of everything that’s previously gone wrong to focus on whatever this is. Brows pinch together and his hand lifts to tuck his arm under Nate, mentally trying to recoil from the discomfort that’s settled in his mind, coming off in roves from his husband that draws huge amounts of concern.
So he does the only thing he knows how to, the good wing flexes, blocks out the light and Sunjata doesn’t shift his eyes to see his husband better. No, he closes them instead, pressing his forehead against Nate’s – feeling the rise of the scar beneath his warm skin. “What’s wrong, my maanlig?” He murmurs, tries to poke and prod as gently as he can – trying to give Nate the space and the closeness required to try and get it out in the air.
Nate doesn’t mind it, which is good. But the fact of Nate having to do it, isn’t good in Sunjata’s mind. Whether that’s right or wrong is hard to say, seeing as he won’t actually admit any of it. And so he simply nestles in close, listening for the next almost stumble of words, a quirk of a smile brought to Sunjata’s shaky, sweaty face. You’re strong. He hums lightly, his free hand moving to press his fingers against Nate’s side. And you aren’t exactly a stick. He murmurs mentally, letting the warmth of that shroud out the pain for a brief moment.
This, too, doesn’t last. Because their foreheads are pressed together and Sunjata’s curls fall into Nate’s raven ones, steel searching blurred steel and blue as his nickname is uttered, as it sounds like it’s forced, and Sunjata forgets about all of the pain, all of everything that’s previously gone wrong to focus on whatever this is. Brows pinch together and his hand lifts to tuck his arm under Nate, mentally trying to recoil from the discomfort that’s settled in his mind, coming off in roves from his husband that draws huge amounts of concern.
So he does the only thing he knows how to, the good wing flexes, blocks out the light and Sunjata doesn’t shift his eyes to see his husband better. No, he closes them instead, pressing his forehead against Nate’s – feeling the rise of the scar beneath his warm skin. “What’s wrong, my maanlig?” He murmurs, tries to poke and prod as gently as he can – trying to give Nate the space and the closeness required to try and get it out in the air.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke
are you okay? should i go away?
are you okay? should i go away?
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.
