// now knowing how to think, i scream aloud, begin to sink
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //
my legs and arms are broken down with envy for the solid ground //
“Especially those.” 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. “Weird thing to gripe about.” He admits, before her question has him thinking.
“The gold ones are hEARs.” 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. “Nate pierced the second lobes and gave me these ones. His eyes were blue and so is my macaw shift.” 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.
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. “Weird thing to gripe about.” He admits, before her question has him thinking.
“The gold ones are hEARs.” 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. “Nate pierced the second lobes and gave me these ones. His eyes were blue and so is my macaw shift.” 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.
// i'm reaching for the life within me, how can one man stop his ending?
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //
i thought of just your face, relaxed, and floated into space //
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.
