your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

She can’t keep her eyes open and he understands it deeply, smiling softly as she leans and nuzzles her head into the touch before he notices her wings vanish beneath his own touch as her hands find him again, and he moves away from her, slipping off to her side to pull her close to tangle in with him again, head resting against the pillows as he still fights to catch his breath more fully.

“I am.” He agrees with a rough voice but it’s full of amusement and some hints of humor. Unexpected? She’s telling him. “It was.” He agrees between his breaths, shifting somewhat to try and get comfortable. “I should have thought it might get like that.” He finally manages, knowing enough about his shifts to know that if the way she drags her fingers through his feathers ignites something small, that having her touch the veins of his bat form might have an even more volcanic approach.

He sighs lightly, content, exhausted as he pulls the blankets somewhat around them — half lidded foggy gaze seeking the ceiling in its array of shadows and light.

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