your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

She squeezes his hip and he melts enough into the touch that she’s able to pull him wherever, closer into her as she tells him something to try when it comes to magic users. And it’s helpful to know, really, focusing on the means of getting closer rather than far away. He nods to her lightly with a soft smile, cheeks brushing against her skin. “I’ll have to try that.” He hums quietly, pressing his lips against the space where her neck and shoulder meet again.

She tells him she’s proud of him, pressing those soft lips of hers against his neck and he tilts his head somewhat to give her more space, relishing in the simple touches. “I did.” He reiterates again, quietly, gently. But at the mention of what the gift was, he pulls away from her a small amount, to hover over her again as he partially shifts and looks down to her with some small part arrogance. The feathers are replaced by dark leathery skin, webbing of a sort that connects the limb to his back. “I can be a bat now.” He says with a smirk — realizing just how much these shifts continue to align with his guild master position. A devil, a demon, a monster — especially with the horns that protrude.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint