// so now you've done a little wrong and you need to be forgiven,
by the vicar and the company you keep //
by the vicar and the company you keep //
(Set directly after the George death thread)
It’s true, her emotions through the Attuned bond had flayed through any defenses he had to offer, pressing into him with a sense of urgency and sudden panic that he had turned into immediate action. He just… hadn’t expected it to end the way it had, even as he sets her down away from the body, still cloaked in scales and horns and wings looking like nothing but the devil as he tries to parse his panic, tries to ensure she’s okay, and curses himself for having nothing that could heal her arm as she heals her side.
Just a visual scar, a reminder perhaps, whether or not they want it. Something Sunjata’s uniquely familiar with; the scar that runs up his cheek paired with the pale lines that can be seen in the snowy moonlight on his dark leathery wing.
He shakes off her thanks, because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to be there the second she called for him. It isn’t something he should receive the gratitude for. It’s something he wants to do, wants to be. That protector. A savior, after so many he’d loved and failed to protect.
Her gratitude for everything is simply met with the pulses of love and relief, that she’s here, that whatever had happened to George hadn’t taken her from him. And it’s that relief that keeps his hands from shaking from the adrenaline as he surveys her.
Underneath the sweater he wears, taloned fingers slice through the cream shirt as he moves to take her arm, to wrap around her wound to stave off the bleeding for the time being, before his hands raise to her cold face and he tugs her in against him, shrouding her in his warmth. “We have to bury him. And inform whomever… that it was self defense.” His deep voice rumbles, still half dragon half man, even as his sharp talons are tender and careful where they touch her, like he might break her.
“Do you want my sweater? Or do you want to go in and get some new clothes?” Because he realizes that she won’t let him do it on his own, nor will he keep her from it.
It’s true, her emotions through the Attuned bond had flayed through any defenses he had to offer, pressing into him with a sense of urgency and sudden panic that he had turned into immediate action. He just… hadn’t expected it to end the way it had, even as he sets her down away from the body, still cloaked in scales and horns and wings looking like nothing but the devil as he tries to parse his panic, tries to ensure she’s okay, and curses himself for having nothing that could heal her arm as she heals her side.
Just a visual scar, a reminder perhaps, whether or not they want it. Something Sunjata’s uniquely familiar with; the scar that runs up his cheek paired with the pale lines that can be seen in the snowy moonlight on his dark leathery wing.
He shakes off her thanks, because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to be there the second she called for him. It isn’t something he should receive the gratitude for. It’s something he wants to do, wants to be. That protector. A savior, after so many he’d loved and failed to protect.
Her gratitude for everything is simply met with the pulses of love and relief, that she’s here, that whatever had happened to George hadn’t taken her from him. And it’s that relief that keeps his hands from shaking from the adrenaline as he surveys her.
Underneath the sweater he wears, taloned fingers slice through the cream shirt as he moves to take her arm, to wrap around her wound to stave off the bleeding for the time being, before his hands raise to her cold face and he tugs her in against him, shrouding her in his warmth. “We have to bury him. And inform whomever… that it was self defense.” His deep voice rumbles, still half dragon half man, even as his sharp talons are tender and careful where they touch her, like he might break her.
“Do you want my sweater? Or do you want to go in and get some new clothes?” Because he realizes that she won’t let him do it on his own, nor will he keep her from it.
// this is the sin that i will confess to release myself
from consequence and everyone can tell //
from consequence and everyone can tell //
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.
