// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //
He doesn’t have to be soft and gentle with her – she’s always been the more fiery between the two of them. His protectiveness is simply from the comment he’d made in Frey’s Breath where she’d asked him what kind of things he hoarded. The protectiveness he shares with her right now is precisely that – a treasure that he doesn’t want to give up right this second.
And it feels like time slows, because he doesn’t know how long they’ve been in this kiss, only brought back to some semblance of what’s going on right now because of the way her hands drift up, the fabric bunched and pulled in all sorts of directions until they’re let go, until the fabric hangs loosely on his frame as she arches against him, hands in his hair, and he leaves one to cup her face while the other trails down to the small of her back, pressing down into the kiss to minimize all the distance they feasibly can.
He doesn’t want to break it either, but he has to – though it doesn’t keep him from separating them. His hands still keep her close, his forehead meeting hers as his chest heaves for breath, having no doubts over the question she’d had earlier if she could still feel, because he could sense every bit and piece in the bond to prove that their feelings sparked like livewires. And he feels frozen, not wanting to give up this moment, to stay here as long as he can.
And it feels like time slows, because he doesn’t know how long they’ve been in this kiss, only brought back to some semblance of what’s going on right now because of the way her hands drift up, the fabric bunched and pulled in all sorts of directions until they’re let go, until the fabric hangs loosely on his frame as she arches against him, hands in his hair, and he leaves one to cup her face while the other trails down to the small of her back, pressing down into the kiss to minimize all the distance they feasibly can.
He doesn’t want to break it either, but he has to – though it doesn’t keep him from separating them. His hands still keep her close, his forehead meeting hers as his chest heaves for breath, having no doubts over the question she’d had earlier if she could still feel, because he could sense every bit and piece in the bond to prove that their feelings sparked like livewires. And he feels frozen, not wanting to give up this moment, to stay here as long as he can.
anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love
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.
