It's a feeling we always chase

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

The one thing that was constant in his life was the need of consent. On his end, on anyone else’s end, that was his rule. The one he never broke, at least not intentionally. And so as he gives her his thought, listens for her own, keeping her close as he can and breathing in the scent of her and sharing what warmth he can… He waits, patiently – because he waited before, for so many times, what’s a few moments longer?

She gives him her thought, and he hums in agreement, turning his head slightly – letting a ghostlike trace of his lips over her cheek as he withdraws his head just enough to search her face, ensure that she wants to give in as much as he does, the rampaging storm of his soul, unsure and uncertain… And then he continues to tangle his fingers within the silky white strands of her hair, nose brushing by hers as he tilts his head down a small amount.

And he gives in, nearing her lips with his own, a soft and gentle kiss – nothing like the fierceness he had before. This one is tender, it’s gentle, it’s part of his exhaustion and simply wanting to dive in at the same time, that war rampaging through his soul at every toss and turn.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell