you should know, that i'm a ticking time bomb
and you're getting close
The tone to Nate’s voice takes him by surprise, even the action does too, it makes him feel somewhat like he’s back home – being told what to expect, what to do, how to react, how to think clearly despite everything else being chaotic. And he returns to that soldier-ish mentality, though the curve of his lip hints at some small amount of amusement at the gesture. But the words, those he takes seriously, and as a man from a place where flooding was common – hell, his moniker even was the Flood, he certainly knew little about lingering effects.
“Ah, no… I didn’t.” He rumbles, but takes a moment to make a mental note of exactly what to look for the next time – how he’d… Likely could’ve just died when he thought so many others had been worse off. But it was just mud, right? Not water? That was different, right? He tries to offer a small smile of understanding, a sort of ‘yes sir’ approach, before Nate’s tone softens and he finds his steel gaze lingering on the other man’s face as his arm is lifted.
He silently thanks Safrin that the man chose the wrist, after all – the neck seemed far too intimate for a check-up, let alone the feelings that’ll come after. But feathers begin to sprinkle along his shoulders in his quiet anxiety, wondering if it’ll hurt worse than the traditional ways of a blood draw. But when it happens? It’s… Euphoric, it’s intense. His other hand grips the chair tightly the second Nate’s fangs pierce his skin. His breath hitches, head tilting back against the back of the chair. Oh, this is not at all what he expects, nothing even close to the sort. And when Nate grips onto his arm, his eyes shudder closed, he can’t help the groan that leaves his throat – a rumble somewhat akin to a purr – his panther form edging out in the hints of the tones to his voice. It rolls through him, heats him from the inside out like a flame that can’t be put out, with such a fire that he can’t focus – can’t think, as his fingers go to unconsciously try to pull Nate closer.
A man has never, well, made him feel this way – but there’s that primal part of him that wants to growl and give in, this strange part of him that wants nothing more than this.
“Ah, no… I didn’t.” He rumbles, but takes a moment to make a mental note of exactly what to look for the next time – how he’d… Likely could’ve just died when he thought so many others had been worse off. But it was just mud, right? Not water? That was different, right? He tries to offer a small smile of understanding, a sort of ‘yes sir’ approach, before Nate’s tone softens and he finds his steel gaze lingering on the other man’s face as his arm is lifted.
He silently thanks Safrin that the man chose the wrist, after all – the neck seemed far too intimate for a check-up, let alone the feelings that’ll come after. But feathers begin to sprinkle along his shoulders in his quiet anxiety, wondering if it’ll hurt worse than the traditional ways of a blood draw. But when it happens? It’s… Euphoric, it’s intense. His other hand grips the chair tightly the second Nate’s fangs pierce his skin. His breath hitches, head tilting back against the back of the chair. Oh, this is not at all what he expects, nothing even close to the sort. And when Nate grips onto his arm, his eyes shudder closed, he can’t help the groan that leaves his throat – a rumble somewhat akin to a purr – his panther form edging out in the hints of the tones to his voice. It rolls through him, heats him from the inside out like a flame that can’t be put out, with such a fire that he can’t focus – can’t think, as his fingers go to unconsciously try to pull Nate closer.
A man has never, well, made him feel this way – but there’s that primal part of him that wants to growl and give in, this strange part of him that wants nothing more than this.
so better watch your step, because i'm about to blow
and where the pieces land i guess we'll never know
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.
