// say it like you mean it, do you trust me now?
call it like you see it, are we burning out? //
call it like you see it, are we burning out? //
Wherever she beckons and wishes for, Sunjata is malleable – maneuvering to press against her as tight as she implies with how her legs hook around his waist. His hands and arms move to wrap around her middle and back, ensuring that despite how she clutches his shirt like he might vanish into the night, he intends to stay right there, radiating heat. He opens up easy for her, letting her explore his scarred mouth as he hums something gentle into her own. And when she parts, his mind is a flood of violet hues and rapt focus for only her.
Her compliment sparks a streak of that lightning through his scars, each one on display and lighting up beneath his relatively thin shirt, lips curving into a crooked smile due to the deadened muscles. His head tilts into her hand as he huffs a little gentle chuckle, as if of the same mindset. “Perhaps I should make a point to visit more often?” He asks in his own gentle whisper, his steel gaze focusing on her again as if he remembers the first visit suddenly, how close things had gotten before he’d closed it off.
So he starts fresh, just like he had the night he’d left her to her room of stars and voids, of violet and peaceful nothingness. Dark wings spread from his back, tearing at the fabric (not that he cares really, he’s got a jacket for that and it’s truthfully nothing he can’t replace on his way back home), and dark horns curve out from his skull in a display of how he had been the first time. Only this time she can explore to her hearts content, even as his wings wrap around to press against the edges of the desk as if for stability (and shrouding the view for anyone who may walk in, if they dared to).
Her compliment sparks a streak of that lightning through his scars, each one on display and lighting up beneath his relatively thin shirt, lips curving into a crooked smile due to the deadened muscles. His head tilts into her hand as he huffs a little gentle chuckle, as if of the same mindset. “Perhaps I should make a point to visit more often?” He asks in his own gentle whisper, his steel gaze focusing on her again as if he remembers the first visit suddenly, how close things had gotten before he’d closed it off.
So he starts fresh, just like he had the night he’d left her to her room of stars and voids, of violet and peaceful nothingness. Dark wings spread from his back, tearing at the fabric (not that he cares really, he’s got a jacket for that and it’s truthfully nothing he can’t replace on his way back home), and dark horns curve out from his skull in a display of how he had been the first time. Only this time she can explore to her hearts content, even as his wings wrap around to press against the edges of the desk as if for stability (and shrouding the view for anyone who may walk in, if they dared to).
the flood
// i wish you could feel it like i do
everything i've done, i do it all for you //
everything i've done, i do it all for you //
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.
