your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

Her tone seems to suggest she’s well aware of interacting with those from Torchline, and he watches as she rolls her eyes, a light hum of amusement leaving him before it fades. “Well, it was like that with the resistance.” He explains – there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t channel any of Lusea’s father’s rule binding to keep things in line. Aside from the fact he likely wouldn’t be too good at it, in the end. But regardless, any way to let off steam without a prize at the end… Shouldn’t really seem like it would require too much work.

“Though you sound as though you know well enough.” A dark brow raises in his silent question, shifting a small amount to pull the blankets over their bare skin as he lets a few heartbeats pass and he asks his question. She grows still, and he wonders if she’s trying to find the way to say no the easiest, that she’d rather stay in Halo where he couldn’t really blame her if she didn’t want to stay here in the Grounds or Torchline where the threat of the sun might be too much for her skin.

He looks over at her as she searches his face, offering her a small smile as if it were okay for her to say no, that he’d deal with it regardless if they were to make this work – because he was trying to be better, to work on himself and avoid all the habits he usually gave into. And her answer when it finally comes is exactly what he looks for, turning to her to pull her close and against him. “I would like that.” He breathes against her skin, steel eyes sparkling with something of excitement, of putting pasts behind to move forward. And with that answer, he leans forward to press a far more grateful kiss to her lips.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint