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+---- Thread: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes (/showthread.php?tid=12419)
I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Colt - 01-19-2026
She stares out at the sinking sun like she's watching sand shift down an hourglass. The painted beauty of the day's end is lost on the distant gloss that is her gaze. As soon as the first star winks on, she'll be gone, pulling back inside like closed doors and covered windows can keep out the monster of the night. For now though, she's content in the dwindling heat of the outdoors. She can feel it rolling off the ground in invisible waves, churning with mixed temperatures as the wind and the soil kiss with varying passion. The bullfrogs and the crickets are singing in their private little pockets of the world, and their concert marks another day survived. That's all it's ever been truly, survival.
Her knees are drawn up tight before her, heels barely hanging on where she's burrowed them in-between the slats of wood that comprise the porch swing, toes hanging over into the subtle breeze. Her chin rests on the plateau of her knees, one arm looped around them to keep them in tight, the other limply holding a cigarette off to the side, wedged between the legs of her new tattoo that she does her best to avoid looking at. This one's burned more than it's been smoked, but she lifts it up to her lips now for a long drag. Everything else is stationary except for the rise and fall of her arm, and the subtle pattern of blinking and breathing that could almost be missed among her stillness.
Her exhale streams long and silent, only notable because of the visible curl of the smoke that puffs out and winds up towards the clouds. A bottle of tequila is sweating beside her on the ground, and some bacon, long ago warded off by the dogs with a sternness their curiosity would not tempt again. She's waiting for the last bit of sunshine, the sort that walks. She left a note for him the moment she got back after traveling, her now annual pilgrimage to Caido's notice boards.
Well, that's a lie.
The first thing she did when she got home was run into the fields and chop a good size off the tails of all her blonde horses, fashioning the least flattering and reliable wig imaginable. It adorns her now, blocks of different shades due to different horses, tied up on top and tucked beneath her hat like an obvious secret. The brim rides noticeably high over the lump fitted inside the shell of the hat, and she's not blind to it, but it's a far cry better than the bandana she'd traveled with over the bald shame.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Sunjata - 01-19-2026
It’s easier now to manage the House of Midnight things when he never leaves the brothel. He’s moved back in once everything had gone down with Hotaru — his mentality bruised, his sanity on the edge of a string with how terrible he’s been sleeping as of late. Worse now, knowing that she’s there and he refuses to let her stay, because he can’t tell himself that it’s okay. It’s a trauma that’s unraveled enough for him to try his damndest to get drunk, pulling out the bottle from Remi and Ronin that would do the trick, and telling himself it still won’t be the same as it once was.
So he puts it away, grabs his pack of smokes, and stalks out of the House toward the Ranch. It’s a mix of shifts that get him there, picking himself as the last one with the inability to hide his dragon wings that settle against his spine, tucked in tight and their claws pointing toward one another over his head. The cigarette’s glow is vibrant orange, illuminating his face as he drags from it until it’s become nothing. And as he approaches the edge of the ranch toward Colt’s front door, his steps slow a touch to see her sitting there easily.
Now, had he not had better eyesight he might have been able to assume she was precisely as she always had been. Searching for something in the history of her memories that would warp and change over time, a mess but not so far gone it can’t be patched up. Instead, he finds a whole lot of a lump under her hat and strands of blonde that stick out a touch too rigid to really be naturally a human’s.
It’s with these slit pupil grey eyes and a ruffle of his leathery wings that Sunjata offers her a lopsided smile of greeting — wearing only boots, a pair of jeans, and a sleeveless tank top in his favorite navy blue. It’s got a cloudy kind of watercolor effect with some black floating through, but it leaves his arm with the lightning scars starkly bright in comparison to the other arm that’s decked out in wave tattoos dark enough now they seem black. And with the hEARs in his ear and the adornment of the dangling earrings from Nate he rarely ever took out, the Flood cuts quite an imposing figure. He’s got a fair amount of stubble darkening his face and the dark bags under his eyes, ones that despite the pupil adjustment are stormy at best. “[say]Should I close my eyes now, or..?[/say]” He asks her, stepping up onto the porch and pointedly looking away from her to the fields outside of the porch.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Colt - 01-19-2026
A few woofs from the edges of her house rise like a warning to Sunjata, and for a minute the bullfrogs and crickets go quiet to listen. Only two dogs bother to get up, fur on end and legs stiff as they approach, despite the faint wag to their tail. One snorts in quick succession, huffing out apology that leans into a yawn and a dip beside him before the pair turn away and resettle in the lawn. It’s a quiet show of oh, you, as much familiarity as recognition that he isn’t one to tango with.
Colt’s lips don’t move except to make room for the filter she brings back up, puckering around the bad habit she traded in place of another. Across the curtain of smoke that divides the horizon in two she studies him, noting the leather wings that linger, claws on display in a very different sight to the feathered set she’d once seen on him. It’s the rest of him that really catches her attention though—stubble long in a way that’s too unkempt to be on purpose, eyes hooded with unrest, posture tight with too many guards up. There’s a feralness to him that’s less familiar, like something started to gnaw on him and he submitted to the feeling of the teeth.
His smile is a reassurance that he hasn’t completely been consumed, or so it’s attempting to pass off. Having worn plenty of empty faces lately, she knows that the more hollow she feels, the better the fake joy echoes. She figures she can wait it out, that eventually it will bounce back enough that she'll forget it's just the sound of herself keeping her company. Sure looks like he’s been doing something similar.
Her lips quirk to one corner of her face and she exhales a shaky stream from her nose as a relative of a laugh departs. [say]”Guess so, since you already talked.”[/say] Her hand falls back to the side, the centaur resting, while her other fingers tighten around the curve of her knees, legs hiding most of the frayed-jean shorts she’s got on. [say]”You look like hell,”[/say] she remarks with no intended cruelty. [say]”Guess you can join my club. Think I still might be the leader just off principle, but given how seriously you take tanning I’m guessing you got it worse than me right now.”[/say] She pats the unoccupied half of the porch swing beside her.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Sunjata - 01-21-2026
Eyes focused on the canines as they approach and lightly wag their tails, Sunjata greets them quietly in turn as he lets them return back to the lawn to settle back down. No longer paused upon his arrival, Sunjata’s smile is focused enough to not be completely lost in his thoughts as he settles in beside her, still standing. Letting his wings rustle with the movement, a soft snort leaves him as she gives him a decent attempt at a laugh. “[say]Alright.[/say]” Closing his eyes for the dramatics of it, his head tilts toward her as he listens for her voice.
Her comment is met with a shrug of his shoulders. “[say]I don't know if you get to be the leader, principle or not.[/say]” Sunjata snorts with confidence that breaks into a heavy sigh. Forgoing the playfulness of their previous deal, he opens his gaze once he sees her pat the side of the swing she sits in and he easily shifts his position and reluctantly makes the dragon wings vanish from his spine to make it easier to sit. “[say]I broke off my engagement.[/say]” He drops the bomb that might explain the fact he’s looking as terrible as he is.
“[say]So, I could go down the list of all my doomed fuckin’ relationships or you won’t mind I just sit here for a few minutes before you pay me back for the room.[/say]” The offer is hers, Sunjata fishing around in his pocket for a pack of smokes for himself. Withdrawing one from the pack between his lips, he lights it and sinks back against the swing to let the smoke curl around him a bit more – turning his attention away from her and out over the darkening fields as the sun flees for the day, offering some amount of reprieve from the heat that still feels baked into every living thing around them.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Colt - 01-23-2026
When his eyes fall shut, a smile breaks out effortlessly. No questions, no raised brows, just going along with it like this is any ordinary request. Gods damn him, he cheers her up instantly with it, a section of her tension uncoiling rather against her will. She'd fully intended to let this night sour into something miserable enough to forget, but in just this small moment, she's reminded that there's better company than burnt-edged memories and feel-sorry pouts.
As he turns to take up her offer, she's about to launch a tease that he doesn't need to lead a region, the best brothel, and her club, but the heavy sigh that follows his voice stills the wag of her tongue. Instead, her head tilts, following him with something suspiciously like concern when he ambles over to sit, wings shaking away like an afterthought.
Her cigarette drops out of her hand.
[say]"You what?"[/say] comes the immediate response, disbelief widening her eyes into a doe's stare at him. The lit stick rolls away a touch, ash marking its rounded trail, but she's forgotten it as she sits up taller, leaving the perch of her knees as she tilts more in the swing to face him properly. Out of habit, she reaches to tuck her hair behind her ears, but stiffens when her fingers brush the coarse horse hair and the whole contraption shifts considerably at the touch. Quickly, she brings her hand back down, fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of her shorts instead. [say]"Well shit,"[/say] she breathes, lips pressing together into a thin line that looks like it might apologize. [say]"You win. Club's all yours, although it was who looks worse, not who's more heartbroken, showoff."[/say]
Leaving him to light his own cigarette, she reaches back for the plate of bacon she never got around to. Given what he'd told her last time about Ru, she can fill in enough of the dots herself without prying, and certainly won't ask him to bear himself to her when he just asked about sittin'. [say]"Can sit as long as you like sunshine, you're always welcome to."[/say] She plucks up a piece of bacon and bites it off with a small snap, having slightly overcooked them. [say]"Want some?"[/say] she asks with a muffled chew.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Sunjata - 01-26-2026
“[say]Yeah.[/say]” He says unceremoniously as he watches from the corner of his eye the way her cigarette falls to the slats below. The smudge of ash from where it hit is left behind like a dark mark on the story he gives her the cliffnotes to, but he sinks back in the swing and lets one leg start to move the swing ever so slightly when it’s clear she doesn’t seem to care about the cigarette itself. His other foot, though, scoots back enough to smoosh the cigarette until it’s out.
He snorts at her comment as he works to light his own cigarette, finally relaxing once he takes the inhale of the nicotine, letting the smoke curl around his nose as he exhales it. “[say]I’ll share. I’ll take the club on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You can have it the rest of the time.[/say]” He looks over at her with a wink. “[say]For fairness and all that.[/say]” The smoke trail from his cigarette moves with the casual wobble of the swing as she plucks the bacon from the tray and tells him he can sit for as long as he likes, his chin dipping slightly in gratitude.
As for the question regarding the bacon, Sunjata flicks some ash from the tip of his cigarette and nods, reaching over to take one and chews on it. “[say]Thanks.[/say]” He says, though it’s unclear whether or not its about the bacon or if it’s about the fact he can just sit here and smoke and sit with come amount of company - a whole hell of a lot more company than he's got otherwise.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Colt - 01-27-2026
She had half hoped she'd heard him wrong, that her mind had chosen to rearrange or add words that didn't fit. Wouldn't be the first time her ears were wildly off mark what was said, or that she imagined something else, however briefly. His confirmation dashes that possibility though, slim as it had been. Part of her wants to reach out to him, to gather him up and hold him the way he had done for her, to return some amount of comfort when she's certain he's been thoroughly stripped of it. She hesitates though, fingers twitching with the impulse before curling back around her denim. For all his innate and practiced charm, she's the opposite, and she fears that even with good intentions, her reach can't do anything more than push someone away. The only warmth she can ever seem to provide is when she's set something on fire.
The sweep of the swing cups her side, and she leans into that subtle momentum, head tilting into the back of the bench as she watches the world sway behind him, framed in mild chaos. A wide smile stretches out in response to his words as he picks back up the tail of her joke, only laid down as a cover for the raw ache she knows he's carrying. It pushes in on her cheek, and she can't keep the short laugh at bay. [say]"Alright, deal,"[/say] she concedes, and extends a hand towards him in proper sealing of their bargain.
She tries not to let her stare pin him down, aware of how uncomfortable she'd be in reverse. So she trains her gaze out on the rising indigo of the horizon, nipping at bacon, content with the quiet and his curling smoke. Part of her is inclined to trace the weariness she first saw on him, gaze skipping sidelong to him at every excuse of grabbing more bacon or readjusting. Maybe she can't reassure or comfort like him, but maybe she can do better than this, find the end of these lines that are scoring into him and pen them up, keep them from running deeper. [say]"Come on,"[/say] she says suddenly and firmly, popping out of the bench in a practiced leap. [say]"You're not leaving here looking as sorry as this. I won't let you go into town and scare everyone, which you'll surely do at this rate."[/say]
A fist settles on her hip as she stands with her door open, patiently (?) waiting for him to come inside.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Sunjata - 01-29-2026
She hasn’t heard him wrong – though that’s just about as obvious as can be when he answers her confidently. He could explain the specifics, about the heart and the whole of how and why he’d given the Valkyrie it, how he’d received it when she’d given it back. It leaves him numb, though, in a way that he wishes the cigarettes hit harder than they did and the way that he wished that any normal proof alcohol might actually affect him one way or another.
He’s at a loss with it, though, not quite having found something that worked for him aside from wearing his armor on the outside. Even that hadn’t helped – being a demigod makes it so it seems unlikely for things to try and focus on him anyway for any kind of fight, so Sunjata’s been fully lacking in ways to actually try to deal with the internal struggle he’s facing.
Her hand extends toward him for the shake of the deal, though, and he takes it to shake her hand and seal their shared ownership over the club they both now own.
He draws quiet as he nibbles on the bacon she’d made, and he does admittedly look up at her a touch confused when she stands and beckons him toward the door of her home. “[say]Eh, I’m sure they’re used to it.[/say]” He assures Colt, but he doesn’t deny her offer. He stands, taking one last drag off the cigarette and drops it, using his heel to stub it out before he’s following her inside. “[say]So how’re you planning on making me not look so bad?[/say]” He raises his scarred brow toward her, a playful roguish smile crossing his face and lopsided because of the scar. It just adds to the charm he isn’t trying to portray, letting his curiosity get the best of him.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Colt - 01-29-2026
Her 'hair' has surely gone a bit askew with the motions, but she's so focused on this new task at hand that she doesn't quite register the little slip of the hat's weight. Short of it entirely tumbling off her head, it's impossible to do anything but focus on Sunjata when he's gathering back his full height, smile the picture perfect portrait of boyish mischief. It's enough to flare her own grin into something wider, the sparkle of holding this upper hand over him, however brief, turning her warmth into something delightfully devious. [say]"Sit right there and you'll see,"[/say] she orders, pointing towards the armchair in her living room. [say]"I'll be right back!"[/say]
She hustles down a hall, although it's not to her room that she scurries, but the one that once belonged to her parents. Since cleaned out and turned into a guest room, there are still some holdovers stowed away. Some belonged to her late husband, some to her parents, and they range from sentimental keepsakes to things that were just more hassle to deal with than to pack away. It's to the latter that she delves, ripping free a box or two with a noise more tremendous than necessary for the reality of foraging through memories.
A small sound of triumph rises when she finds what she'd been looking for. Quickly she takes it, and after dipping into the bathroom, reappears with a tray of goodies she sets down near the armchair. [say]"You,"[/say] she says with a firm point towards him, [say]"are in desperate need of a shave."[/say] She's pulled out all her late husband's old equipment for the task, something she'd helped him with a time or two. Flicking out the towel to put on his chest and under his neck, she then uses the lever to recline him back, a hand reaching out to trace the length of the stubble on his cheek.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Sunjata - 02-02-2026
She beckons him forward into the house and he’s helpless but to follow her, guided over toward a chair in the living room with an instruction. A brattier part of him wants to say that he’ll stand, but there’s something in the gleam of her gaze that reveals excitement for something he can’t quite figure out – so he does as he’s told to. He steps over to the comfortable armchair, sits in it and gets a little comfortable, stretching out his long legs beneath him as he listens to her fiddle about in her house, in a back room he doesn’t know quite where he is.
Eventually, though, the sound of Colt’s arrival sparks his interest, the tray briefly into view as he glances over at it with a raise of his brow. “[say]Oh, I am, huh?[/say]” He asks with a soft laugh, a touch surprised and softened by the offer as he tilts his chin up so she can place the towel under his chin and against his neck. Leaned back by the lever of the chair, his steel gaze focuses on her a little sharper as she traces the length fo the stubble on his cheek.
It has grown out a fair amount, but as she does her inspection, she’ll find that it hasn’t grown along the line of the scar that gives him half of a Glasgow smile, and it’s that corner of his mouth that quirks up that Sunjata watches her take him in. “[say]I haven’t had anyone else give me a shave in a long time.[/say]” He admits a little quietly, though he doesn’t stop her by any means. If she wants to, he’ll let her, with or without the horse hair wig on her head in case it becomes distracting. "[say]Let's see what you've got.[/say]"
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Colt - 02-03-2026
Her eyes trace the score of stubble alongside the even, exploratory slide of her fingertips. It spills across the trench of a scar when it lifts higher into his face, the line beckoning her attention up even further with his admission, and she meets his stormwrought gaze for a moment. Her pulse has quickened much without her approval, discovering an unexpected intimacy in lingering so close to his face. Color threatens to flush her neckline, embarrassed to find even this most subtle thing affecting her. She backs away into humor, gaze flicking away with a huff of a laugh. [say]"That makes one of us."[/say] Touch ghosts along his jaw a second longer before it too withdraws completely and she turns back towards the tray set beside her.
All his rough edges linger against her skin with a phantom prickle. It's so at odds with the metal she reaches for, cool and sleek, that at first contact her fingers curl back as though the tool is unnatural. [say]"If I remember right,"[/say] she hums, grasping the handle of the brush with a quick surge of defiance for the goosebumps threatening to bloom. [say]"You aren't supposed to be seeing anything,"[/say] she reminds, turning on her bootheel and descending with soap and brush like they could be weapons in the wrong hands. [say]"I've half a mind to blindfold you,"[/say] she threatens, beginning to swipe the lather across the shadow of his unkempt scruff.
Hoping to deter any further questions about why he can't be seeing, the joke surely losing its patience with him by now, she pulls the suds across his mouth next. Reassured for the time being, her quick movements slow to something more deliberate and methodical, gaze intent as she focuses on covering him evenly. [say]"It's a shame, because you do look your best with some amount of stubble,"[/say] she laments quietly, [say]"but this has gone into a state of disrepair."[/say] So clean shaven it'll have to be.
Swapping out soap for steel, she holds the razor next, one hand settling near his ear and guiding a mild turn of his head. [say]"Now hold still honey,"[/say] she says softly as she leans in.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Sunjata - 02-04-2026
This close, Sunjata can see the way the light of the room plays against her ochre eyes, the way the blonde wig of horsehair doesn’t sit quite well, but that particular note is peripheral. He focuses on her face, how it looks like the sun has left her with a tan against her cheekbones, darker around her nose, the way there’s creases along the edge of her mouth either from a wry smile or the grimace of something not working out. It’s honestly a toss up to him which she does more.
And it makes him wonder if her comment about the shave has to do with the horse hair wig, given the fact that he’s fairly confident he knows her well enough to know that she wouldn’t choose to wear it of her own accord. Not during Longheat, especially this year with the fires and the heat. But the Heartless draws silent while Colt’s fingers trace his jaw, at least until she threatens him with the blindfold and he snorts, chuckling quietly to not get any of the lather in his mouth.
“[say]I never was good at following orders.[/say]” He winks to her, the sentence mumbled as he tries to keep the soap from slipping into his mouth that she promptly paints over his lips with after. It makes him quiet again, focusing on her face with the intensity of which she’s taken this task. It seems like she isn’t one to go halfway, at least, so he assumes she’s likely got a good hold on what she intends to do.
Clean shaven or not, it isn’t something that will last too long. Guaranteed for the demigod to have his five o clock shadow back by this time tomorrow. And maybe then he’d find it in him to actually tame it back into something of use. “[say]Mhm.[/say]” He says, preventing his mouth from opening so the lather doesn’t get in, but Colt will feel the way he seems to relax a touch – eyes closing despite the fact she’s got the razor (he’s seen worse, after all), and waits for her to start shaving him.
As she makes the passes, the full spread of the scar will make itself known, along with the pale one that sits along his major artery along his neck that’s half hidden right now by the dark shade of his beard. It’s an older scar, not as puckered and fresh as the one on his face seems like. And even that one doesn’t look as fresh as the ones that cut through his eyebrow, preventing his brow hair from growing completely across there too.
But with his eyes closed, it gives her the ample opportunity to truly look at him, the long lashes, the freckles that span like their own dark constellations across his nose, the slight redness of a sunburn against the tops of his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Even the earrings sit in his ears glint and tell a story, bright and shiny against the dark of his shirt and the dark navy ink of his tattoos who’s one compass seems placed over that old scar on his neck, like he’s pretended that it never happened in the first place.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Colt - 02-05-2026
A wry shape bends her mouth in return for his comment. [say]"Even ones you give yourself, Archon?"[/say] she queries, amusement tickling her tone. That he's a rebel is no surprise given what she knows about him, including his time before Caido, though she's fairly certain that at this point he has very few left to order him around. There's always Frey, but they're not much the commanding type. Aware that he's in a poor position to respond, quite on purpose, she pauses her efforts long enough to throw him a look. She expects to find an answer gathered in some shape or another on him, but he wears more than that. Don’t they all.
Weariness remains with all the permanence of a scar, though it's not so obvious when his lips slant sly or his gaze fixes on something more present than memory. In those moments, one such as this, he could be mistaken for something other than miserable, however briefly. She doesn’t linger on the places where the aches of the world have been pushed to the fringes of him, instead glancing at the wrinkle lines that reveal the way his smile has worn itself into his face. It’s proof that despite everything, he’s bent rather than broken himself before the world, even if it doesn’t always feel that way in the moment, even if he’d done everything to let that snap cleave a new kind of peace. She’s certain he’s bowing again now, some days heavier than others, and maybe it’s all the scar tissue holding him together now, but she doesn’t worry that he’ll buckle to the weight.
She pulls herself back from the view, trading suds for sharp, as she is apt to do. It begins simple enough, hair giving way to the edge of the razor, lather shorn away with it to mark the trail of where she’s been. It goes in short but sure strokes, each rasp revealing a hint of a new man beneath the shadow, and she wipes away what he was on a towel at her side like it’s really that easy. Carefully she runs a finger down his cheek, appraising the feel of the work done so far with a low hum of approval.
It’s impossible not to be drawn back to the study of him as she goes though. The color of the harsh sun lingering on the prominent parts of his features tells the story of the hard work he’s always doing for the region. The earrings, ones she can’t ever recall seeing him without, show the way he hangs onto the things that matter to him, the sentiments of things he’s lost before, like it might remind him how to avoid doing so again. The ink he’s decorated himself with, the only pain he’s ever deliberately chosen, and all to sign a promise to his skin that his mind can’t forget.
Her fingers shift from his jawline and the brush of his hair by his ear to splaying against his freshly shaven cheek, keeping him steady as she leans in close enough for breath to disturb the soap. She’s tackling his moustache now, gaze intent on the task, one knee rising to brace against the arm of the chair to get a good angle. [say]”You’re much better at this than Clyde ever was,”[/say] she murmurs, blade swiping across his upper lip with precision and care. [say]”He’d always gripe about the effort of shaving.”[/say] Her concentration rises as she finishes around his mouth, wiping away the residue with her towel to give him freedom to talk easier again. [say]”What’s the story on the earrings?”[/say] she wonders as she wipes her blade clean to start on his other cheek.
RE: I'm in love with the rain, the flood only takes - Sunjata - 02-05-2026
“[say]Especially those.[/say]” He manages to get out before he’s silenced by a blanket of lathered soap. It leaves him time to look at her - really look at her while she works. The way her focus drifts from scar to scar, from freckle to freckle, tracing constellations on his face that don’t mirror the ones she still probably was missing. His eyes trail along the smooth curve of her jaw and the way that it seems tight in focus, though he’s not sure he’s ever seen her truly relax.
The closest might have been that day where she’d helped him for his quest, burying themselves away from the problems outside of everything to indulge in the comfort of each other – however manufactured it might have been at the time. And because of that, his healing had become powerful, enough that he was able to heal a majority of superficial issues.
There’s no healing a dead heart, though. Not at least that he’s capable of. So, rather than remain with the reminder of just how empty and numb everything emotionally feels, he’s acutely aware that physically it seems to have amped it. It’s similar to the way one’s senses grew stronger when one was cut off, he imagines, though he’s never had to experience it until now. And as her finger traces along the edge of his cheek where the skin is closely shaven and smooth, it’s enough to spark a bit of goosebumps along his shoulders that he hides the best he can with his sly smiles.
Hearing her talk about her ex husband, though, has him internally judging the man who was no longer here. Unable to respond, though, with how close that knife is to his lips (even if it wouldn’t be the first time he’d acquired the taste of blood in his mouth), the Heartless waits until she’s swiped him clean to reply. “[say]Weird thing to gripe about.[/say]” He admits, before her question has him thinking.
“[say]The gold ones are hEARs.[/say]” He starts – which is only a partial truth. He’d received the one, amplifying whispers, and had the other one made to match so no one knew which one was which. But the others? The others have a much deeper story and one that has him focusing away from her, letting her work at his cheek carefully as he picks his words. “[say]Nate pierced the second lobes and gave me these ones. His eyes were blue and so is my macaw shift.[/say]” Which made sense, given the blue gems that sat on them, the piece a dangly one from a silver chain with those blue gems, ending with a bead and a dangling feather made of the same silver. And much like his wedding ring (the one that’s set in silver and features a crescent moon), it never parts from his person.
He talks with more fondness and reverence for his past husband than Colt does, which is something he lingers on more than he'd like to admit. He can only assume the relationship wasn't the best - though it was rare that any of them were. For as much as he loved the Lone Ranger, they too had their spats and fights. They were horribly perfect for each other, in the way that they tended to mirror one another. Both touch starved, both trying to be stronger than they were, both trying to be okay for the other when it was everything but.
But they were each other's lifeline at the end of the rope, the one that would pull them back when things got a little too out of hand. And without that, well, Sunjata had spun out for a long time after that. And it's with a slow building realization that in the numbness he feels for everything that happened with Hotaru and the loss of his romantic sided heart, that Sunjata can't feel anything for Nate either.
And that cuts harder for him mentally than Colt could ever do with the straight razor in her hand. It's also precisely why he grows even quieter as he considers it. And this close? Colt would be able to see the cracks in the mask he puts up.