better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low
“I’ll think on it.” He assures her with a soft laugh over what might fit best into his hoard — settling into the water with that same ease and playfulness before the conversation and it shift toward something far more serious — and not even the seriousness of the topic of his scent but the fact that if Melita ever found out. His brows raise and he rumbles another deeper chuckle, an innocent look overtaking him. “My lips are sealed, Ru.” Gods knew he didn’t need anything else to catch Melita’s ire.
But then his explanation comes, arms looped around her hips while her hands find his shoulders and she goes incredibly still. The Flood watching now as his explanation takes hold, as he feels the struggle she has with keeping the attuned bond open enough for him to feel the war she has. His head immediately tilts though, arms tightening again around her at her apology, confusion streaking through him. “No, don’t be sorry, that’s not how I took it.” He says quickly, even if there were a part of him that did think that because of it they stood a chance again. That wasn’t the point of this, the entire point is to get to know each other again, to start that friendship, then go from there.
Whatever happens, happens. But he isn’t going to try and force it one way or another. And as she continues, her words mirroring his current lived through events, his hands lift — water dripping from them as he pushes back her blonde locks, rough and calloused hands moving to cup each side of her face. “It’s similar for me, it’s okay.” He murmurs, of having those feelings and thoughts with the potential to ruin the friendship they build, but they both are on the same page. “You are still that cunning, beautiful, hurricane of a woman that I am enamored with.” He flashes her a soft smile, not quite emotional enough to share the same that he had in that room in the Inn, but enough that the open bond between them suggests it. He loves her, but he’s not going to let it ruin what they’re trying so hard to do, so hard to fix.
But he makes it lighter and she meets him halfway as always, and he leans forward to press his forehead against hers, humming a soft laugh. “I’ll write it down and keep it on hand just in case anyone asks.” He teases her with a soft laugh. Nobody will ask, and that’s part of the fun of it.
But then his explanation comes, arms looped around her hips while her hands find his shoulders and she goes incredibly still. The Flood watching now as his explanation takes hold, as he feels the struggle she has with keeping the attuned bond open enough for him to feel the war she has. His head immediately tilts though, arms tightening again around her at her apology, confusion streaking through him. “No, don’t be sorry, that’s not how I took it.” He says quickly, even if there were a part of him that did think that because of it they stood a chance again. That wasn’t the point of this, the entire point is to get to know each other again, to start that friendship, then go from there.
Whatever happens, happens. But he isn’t going to try and force it one way or another. And as she continues, her words mirroring his current lived through events, his hands lift — water dripping from them as he pushes back her blonde locks, rough and calloused hands moving to cup each side of her face. “It’s similar for me, it’s okay.” He murmurs, of having those feelings and thoughts with the potential to ruin the friendship they build, but they both are on the same page. “You are still that cunning, beautiful, hurricane of a woman that I am enamored with.” He flashes her a soft smile, not quite emotional enough to share the same that he had in that room in the Inn, but enough that the open bond between them suggests it. He loves her, but he’s not going to let it ruin what they’re trying so hard to do, so hard to fix.
But he makes it lighter and she meets him halfway as always, and he leans forward to press his forehead against hers, humming a soft laugh. “I’ll write it down and keep it on hand just in case anyone asks.” He teases her with a soft laugh. Nobody will ask, and that’s part of the fun of it.
SUNJATA
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.
