// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //
I can’t grow anything. He murmurs back, the cheer Nate offers cut down quickly in lieu of it. But he cuts himself short from adding anything else as Nate responds with the big plot, his mind quickly and partially snapping to it. What would he even grow? What would even thrive in Torchline’s climate? And better yet, what would survive? It almost begins to feel like a livewire tap to how he’s feeling right now, how this begins to sway.
And he gives in, sending his father’s voice over to Nate, shying away from it all the same – reduced to nothing by just a deep, rumbling voice full of command and strength and disappointment. Nate wraps the blanket closer, Sunjata going willingly wherever his husband pulls him, however close they are. He almost forgets about his aching jaw with the feeling of the yawning pit within him.
He hears a growl as he mentions the chamber again, enough that his steel gaze flickers up and scans the edge of Nate’s face. A beacon through the dark granted in the form of better thoughts, of better memories, of pushing aside thoughts of darkness and a horrible upbringing in favor for something warmer, if not still somewhat painful.
If it weren’t for Nate’s excitement, he might have remained in his stupor, but he clings to his anchor in the storm – already the sensations through the bond are lighter, like a breath heaved and released. You do? He asks, shifting a bit so that he can rest his head on Nate’s shoulder again, hands intertwined while he focuses on the rope Nate’s given him, to pull him out of it.
The laughter, such a small tidbit of information that seems so minute in the moment, surprises him when he ducks his head and hums a quiet laugh in response. He’d forgotten of the bugs that used the bushes as their hideouts. He’d forgotten that he could see their pink and purple blooms from his window when the clouds lifted. He’d forgotten the times when his mother would press a small bleeding heart, left under the door in a letter for him when he refused to leave his room those following months after his Trial.
His mind seems to filter through all of these things in what feels like a thousand miles an hour, so much so that the next words that leave his lips have no connection with everything else he’s said. He hopes Nate understands anyway. Saar and I used to sneak out before I got stationed. When I got better she’d slip us out to go to the beach.
And he gives in, sending his father’s voice over to Nate, shying away from it all the same – reduced to nothing by just a deep, rumbling voice full of command and strength and disappointment. Nate wraps the blanket closer, Sunjata going willingly wherever his husband pulls him, however close they are. He almost forgets about his aching jaw with the feeling of the yawning pit within him.
He hears a growl as he mentions the chamber again, enough that his steel gaze flickers up and scans the edge of Nate’s face. A beacon through the dark granted in the form of better thoughts, of better memories, of pushing aside thoughts of darkness and a horrible upbringing in favor for something warmer, if not still somewhat painful.
If it weren’t for Nate’s excitement, he might have remained in his stupor, but he clings to his anchor in the storm – already the sensations through the bond are lighter, like a breath heaved and released. You do? He asks, shifting a bit so that he can rest his head on Nate’s shoulder again, hands intertwined while he focuses on the rope Nate’s given him, to pull him out of it.
The laughter, such a small tidbit of information that seems so minute in the moment, surprises him when he ducks his head and hums a quiet laugh in response. He’d forgotten of the bugs that used the bushes as their hideouts. He’d forgotten that he could see their pink and purple blooms from his window when the clouds lifted. He’d forgotten the times when his mother would press a small bleeding heart, left under the door in a letter for him when he refused to leave his room those following months after his Trial.
His mind seems to filter through all of these things in what feels like a thousand miles an hour, so much so that the next words that leave his lips have no connection with everything else he’s said. He hopes Nate understands anyway. Saar and I used to sneak out before I got stationed. When I got better she’d slip us out to go to the beach.
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.
