(SE) when the nighttime comes, say yes

SUNJATA

i'm drowning in all these voices in the sea
and meeting all my vices in the ring

“Every single one of them. And the scars too.” He offers, tilting his horned head to show her the compass, the scar. He lets her look at the navy markings, the etching into his flesh permanently marked and fit to form his body, curves of the wings that flit along shoulders and chest and back. But he focuses on her when he pauses once more, listening to her as she mentions that he shouldn’t bear the burden of his death, and he finally shakes his head to that, horns dripping a small amount more water with the gesture. “I tried to. Almost died in the process. Three years after I defected, one of the other noblemen ratted out our location to my father. They captured Lusea and I, brought us back to the house I grew up in, and a few weeks later dragged us into the front room along the foyer.”

He can still see the blood trickling along the marble stone, the rage that encompassed him, the guards that held him back and restrained him as he tried to fight back and break free to get to her. But she had been so weak after those weeks. A heavy sigh leaves him, raspy and he focuses on her pale gaze. “Guards held us back and my father went on a rant of how much of a disappointment I was, how I could still be saved. He ended up killing Lusea that day, and I raged.” A bitterness crosses his gaze, his face at that. “I surged against the guards holding me but they held a blade to my throat, sliced my neck open as I went to hold her and try to save her. There wasn’t anything I could do though, and they healed me before I had a chance to go with her.” A brief pause as he lets his head near hers again, lips by her ear as his hands brush through the bright white of her hair.

“But he had it planned, arranged marriages for my sister and I to ensure I didn’t stray.” He withdraws his head a bit to see her face at that – that perhaps she may understand his resentment and bitterness toward marriages – because every single time he’d been forced into it. How he’d never wanted it. Never thought he could ever want it. “I had to flee Korofi before Lusea’s father got to me. My father broadcasted that I was a spy within the rebellion and had done it all intentionally.”

He lets the words sink in as he focuses on her question of the militia, hearing the playful tone to her voice that causes a small smile to creep onto his own face despite the seriousness of their conversation. “A few other things perhaps, given time.” He continues to let his hands stroke her hair, sending a wink to her.

so step inside, i ain't afraid to bleed
there ain't a casket strong enough for me