better get to diggin' while my body's getting cold.
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low
i keep tryna fight it so just promise when i go, you'll bury me low
Immediately, he shakes his head. “Perhaps we can share it. I get yours for a bit and you get mine in return.” Trading it back and forth, unknowingly admitting his own thoughts on the matter that he wishes for something that smelled like her, too, that lemongrass and cedar scent, ozone and fresh snow.
It is relieving, however, to have these idle conversations, ones that don’t make his heart drop into his stomach, ones that don’t make him want to shy away from having to mention any memories for fear of the pain they’ll cause. It’s easier still when it shifts completely to Melita and Sunjata’s internally horrified at the thought of ever attempting such a thing. Though, if it were anyone but him they’d likely stand a chance. Not that he wants to steal anything from Melita – more prone to giving her trinkets than taking them. “You’d better hope she doesn’t find out.” Comes the softer chuckle until silence overtakes him.
He doesn’t expect her confusion, and her admission only brings some kind of uncertain awkwardness suddenly flooding through him, face to face as he watches her with those bright steel eyes of his, the shadows at bay for a little while longer even as his smile shifts more lopsided, gentle, soft, even when she leans in to get a good whiff from his wet, suntanned skin. “Oh.” He says unhelpfully, and he’s sure she could probably feel the way he wars at himself internally from telling her.
It would be a better kept secret, he supposes, but he’s shown his hand now. He shifts a little in the water, arms loosening around her despite still being looped and connected, falling around her hips now as he looks over her shoulder, unable to start the conversation looking at her face (once again for fear of the rejection that the admission might cause). “Frey changed that.” He starts, finding some courage within him to try and see how the information would reflect on her. “I smell different to everyone. It’s just… Whatever they prefer or desire the scent to be, that’s what it is.” Not unlike their deity’s shapeshifting ability, Sunjata’s was in his scent.
“It is relieving to know that I still smell like me to someone.” He tries to alleviate the awkwardness of the admission, his smile still soft and tender.
It is relieving, however, to have these idle conversations, ones that don’t make his heart drop into his stomach, ones that don’t make him want to shy away from having to mention any memories for fear of the pain they’ll cause. It’s easier still when it shifts completely to Melita and Sunjata’s internally horrified at the thought of ever attempting such a thing. Though, if it were anyone but him they’d likely stand a chance. Not that he wants to steal anything from Melita – more prone to giving her trinkets than taking them. “You’d better hope she doesn’t find out.” Comes the softer chuckle until silence overtakes him.
He doesn’t expect her confusion, and her admission only brings some kind of uncertain awkwardness suddenly flooding through him, face to face as he watches her with those bright steel eyes of his, the shadows at bay for a little while longer even as his smile shifts more lopsided, gentle, soft, even when she leans in to get a good whiff from his wet, suntanned skin. “Oh.” He says unhelpfully, and he’s sure she could probably feel the way he wars at himself internally from telling her.
It would be a better kept secret, he supposes, but he’s shown his hand now. He shifts a little in the water, arms loosening around her despite still being looped and connected, falling around her hips now as he looks over her shoulder, unable to start the conversation looking at her face (once again for fear of the rejection that the admission might cause). “Frey changed that.” He starts, finding some courage within him to try and see how the information would reflect on her. “I smell different to everyone. It’s just… Whatever they prefer or desire the scent to be, that’s what it is.” Not unlike their deity’s shapeshifting ability, Sunjata’s was in his scent.
“It is relieving to know that I still smell like me to someone.” He tries to alleviate the awkwardness of the admission, his smile still soft and tender.
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.
