don't you know i'm no good for you?
It’s blown up in ways Sunjata hasn’t anticipated, in ways he couldn’t have anticipated. Once, they had been on the same page, and now? Now they were leagues apart and Sunjata fumbles and flounders through the pages to try and get back. And he fails.
It’s evident in the way that he doesn’t entirely understand Nate’s metaphor, in the way he tries to shake it off — it is his fault. Unless, of course, Nate means he’s being used as a tool of sorts. But even then, Sunjata doesn’t know how to take the hammer away. But he wants to. And so he tries, reaching out to grab onto Nate, not realizing that it’s pain at first, at simply thinking that it’s some crest of emotions on this wave that they’re on.
And Nate leans into it, and then gasps and chokes, and it’s like a blind flash of lightning in his mind. He’s hurting him.
His hands immediately withdraw, torn between looking at them and seeing if there was anything there that caused this, if he could wipe it off or make it stop. But there’s nothing, nothing but the tears that drip from his eyes, his face streaked with them when he looks back up and spies Nate falling, hitting the ground hard, and staring without quite seeing up at a sky that begins to break it’s own storm above them.
He charges for Nate, stepping over the boards and dropping to his knees beside Nate, not touching him — not daring to. “NateI’mSoSorry.” Comes out in a gasped breath, scanning Nate for any sign of… Anything, really. But the Ascended doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t need to blink, and all he can offer is his company, however welcoming it may or may not be. He withdraws, sitting hard in the rain, peeling his shirt from his back, and moves to drape it across Nate’s torso if only to help block from the rain, to give him some sort of warmth and touch without it being him and his cursed self. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A choked out repetition. And then he withdraws again, legs crossed and tucked up so his knees can hide his face, so he can wrap his arms around them in the hopes of not hurting anything else. And he can’t stop the tears from flowing now, from the shake in his spine and his shoulders, the muffled repetition of his apologies over and over and over again.
It’s evident in the way that he doesn’t entirely understand Nate’s metaphor, in the way he tries to shake it off — it is his fault. Unless, of course, Nate means he’s being used as a tool of sorts. But even then, Sunjata doesn’t know how to take the hammer away. But he wants to. And so he tries, reaching out to grab onto Nate, not realizing that it’s pain at first, at simply thinking that it’s some crest of emotions on this wave that they’re on.
And Nate leans into it, and then gasps and chokes, and it’s like a blind flash of lightning in his mind. He’s hurting him.
His hands immediately withdraw, torn between looking at them and seeing if there was anything there that caused this, if he could wipe it off or make it stop. But there’s nothing, nothing but the tears that drip from his eyes, his face streaked with them when he looks back up and spies Nate falling, hitting the ground hard, and staring without quite seeing up at a sky that begins to break it’s own storm above them.
He charges for Nate, stepping over the boards and dropping to his knees beside Nate, not touching him — not daring to. “NateI’mSoSorry.” Comes out in a gasped breath, scanning Nate for any sign of… Anything, really. But the Ascended doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t need to blink, and all he can offer is his company, however welcoming it may or may not be. He withdraws, sitting hard in the rain, peeling his shirt from his back, and moves to drape it across Nate’s torso if only to help block from the rain, to give him some sort of warmth and touch without it being him and his cursed self. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A choked out repetition. And then he withdraws again, legs crossed and tucked up so his knees can hide his face, so he can wrap his arms around them in the hopes of not hurting anything else. And he can’t stop the tears from flowing now, from the shake in his spine and his shoulders, the muffled repetition of his apologies over and over and over again.
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
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.
