if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?
is it safer if we just say that we tried?
There are some days where things seem to feel like a dream – like you’re there but you’re not really paying attention to what’s going on. Perhaps that’s what today was… Perhaps it’s what he wishes it were. Because nothing seems quite out of the ordinary, not for Sunjata. He can hear the crowd and snippets of conversation as him and Nate walk through, and then when the crowd is formed he pays it little attention.
Honestly, he thinks someone might’ve just had a bit too much to drink. So he edges outside of the crowd, focused on what’s happening around the outside of it – knowing Nate can handle himself when it comes to helping the people within he streets. After all, they both had when the volcano had erupted. So when Nate’s arm leaves him and Sunjata’s left to his own devices, the crowd packs a little tighter and he’s left on the outside as Nate pushes his way in, kneeling before the stranger.
Though not like Sunjata could see it.
It’s not like he can see what happens next.
And this is when it feels more like a dream – like a fucked up mix between a memory and real life that he’s not quite sure what to do with. But his body moves on its own accord, his attention snatched the second the woman screams to not touch her.
That’s not out of the ordinary.
But then – then there’s the sound that comes next, and he’d know it anywhere – would know him anywhere, and that’s when his throat hitches, hands immediately shifting toward those daggers at his belt, slipping out both of them as his body moves before his mind does, before he has a chance to truly wrap around what’s just happened. And thank god it does – because she’s shifting, moving, and Nate’s scrabbling and Sunjata has two choices to make, and he has to decide fast.
He shoves his way through the crowd, daggers at the ready, steel eyes going to Nate first with all the sudden flare of anger and fear. A series of pleas that the scent of scorched and cauterized skin in the air doesn’t catch and continue to smolder. And fuck it’s so much worse than Sunjata thought it could be. A knife was one thing, something combined with fire was another. Something like that combined with carving its way through his lover’s face was an entirely other ordeal.
So he goes for her next, because he’s been given a choice this time – his daggers tighten in his hands that threaten to curl into claws, and he surges for her with the daggers outstretched – hoping to maim something of hers for what she’s done, not thinking twice over whether or not it was a reaction to some form of self defense or not. He doesn’t care, not with the image of what she’s done to Nate’s face blinding his sight.
Honestly, he thinks someone might’ve just had a bit too much to drink. So he edges outside of the crowd, focused on what’s happening around the outside of it – knowing Nate can handle himself when it comes to helping the people within he streets. After all, they both had when the volcano had erupted. So when Nate’s arm leaves him and Sunjata’s left to his own devices, the crowd packs a little tighter and he’s left on the outside as Nate pushes his way in, kneeling before the stranger.
Though not like Sunjata could see it.
It’s not like he can see what happens next.
And this is when it feels more like a dream – like a fucked up mix between a memory and real life that he’s not quite sure what to do with. But his body moves on its own accord, his attention snatched the second the woman screams to not touch her.
That’s not out of the ordinary.
But then – then there’s the sound that comes next, and he’d know it anywhere – would know him anywhere, and that’s when his throat hitches, hands immediately shifting toward those daggers at his belt, slipping out both of them as his body moves before his mind does, before he has a chance to truly wrap around what’s just happened. And thank god it does – because she’s shifting, moving, and Nate’s scrabbling and Sunjata has two choices to make, and he has to decide fast.
He shoves his way through the crowd, daggers at the ready, steel eyes going to Nate first with all the sudden flare of anger and fear. A series of pleas that the scent of scorched and cauterized skin in the air doesn’t catch and continue to smolder. And fuck it’s so much worse than Sunjata thought it could be. A knife was one thing, something combined with fire was another. Something like that combined with carving its way through his lover’s face was an entirely other ordeal.
So he goes for her next, because he’s been given a choice this time – his daggers tighten in his hands that threaten to curl into claws, and he surges for her with the daggers outstretched – hoping to maim something of hers for what she’s done, not thinking twice over whether or not it was a reaction to some form of self defense or not. He doesn’t care, not with the image of what she’s done to Nate’s face blinding his sight.
are we laughing at the danger?
are we dancing after death, you and I?
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.
