Where the Wild Things Are

?
SUNJATA

He chews on the inside of his lip when she speaks, concern drifting in her voice, and he can’t help but to keep his gaze away from hers. He lets her grow concerned, because he doesn’t have enough energy, enough state of mind to quell her own worries. All he wants to do is rid the anger he has through sweat and the feel of his fist hitting a bag of some sort. But he controls himself enough to refrain, to hear her when she tells him to let her decide; but he can’t. He had before, and it had cost him everything. He had thought he had control, but he didn’t then when he was virtually untouchable. What made him think he did here?

Her thumb rubs against his jaw where the muscle flares and he focuses again on his breathing while listening, and to a point she’s right, but he is also right too. He’s sorry he can’t give her what she wants, what she should be able to experience before the possibility of the blight taking her. But she’s full of regret and his eyes finally skate over to hers, dark and shadowed, weary and tired as he pulls away from her touch to rub at his forehead. “You are right to an extent.” He says roughly, thinking of the times she had asked him numerous times what they were to one another, but the words couldn’t slip from his lips. So he had danced around them instead, and it obviously bothered her enough to spit it back in his face, blight or no blight.

It’s his turn now, and he looks to her and her soft, pale, sickly face as he reaches up to brush her hair over her shoulder. “It’s okay.” It isn’t. “I need some time to think.” He manages to grit out before sighing, his accent strongly coming through. “Let’s go home?”

you were forged in fire

& you rose from the ashes

murder and mercy rolled into one