THE FLOOD
// take my heart and make it feel,
take my soul and make it real
take my soul and make it real
Oh there’s plenty of time for Hotaru to get to cook and be whatever kind of homemaker she wanted to be. Sunjata isn’t versed in it much himself – taking a bit more pride in decorating, given that he’d grown up with nothing more than grey walls and white bedding and next to no touch of a personalization to his sterile bedroom growing up. It’s why he’d gone so hard at the VlamVloed as he did, why the Kraai and Slagveld and House of Midnight had been done so over the top. He’s making up for lost time.
His homes weren’t any different either, each one with Nate harboring touches from the both of them, bits and pieces strewn about that one could look at and say that they knew who this house belonged to. He intends this one with Hotaru to be the same – the mixture of furs and broody colors decorating the walls, the lights that warm up the space, the large and comfortable couch in the living room they can curl up on to read (or Hotaru can settle on with a view from the large window to see him practicing out by the river).
For the moment, though, he chops the ingredients with the dexterity of someone intimately familiar with how knives worked, continuing it fluidly as Hotaru steps up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist and he can feel the warmth of her cheek against his spine. It sparks a small and soft smile, even if she can’t see it, surely she can feel it through the attuned bond all the same. “Good.” He murmurs gently, meaning every second of it – proud of himself for being able to get her dream from paper to reality.
As for himself, though, the knife hesitates before he sets it down and his arms drop around her own to squeeze lightly, amusement bubbling through the bond at the question. “I prefer to build it, honestly. Just means I can claim all the blood and sweat that went into it.” No tears, though, because this was a beautiful, happy beginning to the next stage of their lives. And it isn't like he hasn't somewhat gotten used to smashing a finger with a hammer after all of these years.
His homes weren’t any different either, each one with Nate harboring touches from the both of them, bits and pieces strewn about that one could look at and say that they knew who this house belonged to. He intends this one with Hotaru to be the same – the mixture of furs and broody colors decorating the walls, the lights that warm up the space, the large and comfortable couch in the living room they can curl up on to read (or Hotaru can settle on with a view from the large window to see him practicing out by the river).
For the moment, though, he chops the ingredients with the dexterity of someone intimately familiar with how knives worked, continuing it fluidly as Hotaru steps up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist and he can feel the warmth of her cheek against his spine. It sparks a small and soft smile, even if she can’t see it, surely she can feel it through the attuned bond all the same. “Good.” He murmurs gently, meaning every second of it – proud of himself for being able to get her dream from paper to reality.
As for himself, though, the knife hesitates before he sets it down and his arms drop around her own to squeeze lightly, amusement bubbling through the bond at the question. “I prefer to build it, honestly. Just means I can claim all the blood and sweat that went into it.” No tears, though, because this was a beautiful, happy beginning to the next stage of their lives. And it isn't like he hasn't somewhat gotten used to smashing a finger with a hammer after all of these years.
'cause i was bright, yeah I was pale and blue,
starry eyed by every thought of you //
starry eyed by every thought of you //
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.
