your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

Perhaps it’s his ego talking, but his smirk widens a small amount as he contemplates her comment. “I like to think I’m irreplaceable.” He hums with an almost matter of fact tone. But there is a part of him that’s growing increasingly more jealous should others peak their interest Maea’s way. As it stands right now, however, they’re both there in each other’s arms. Nothing to worry about there.

Still, he turns her and she pulls her hair over to her chest over her shoulder and he grabs a bit more soap to lather along her shoulders and down her back, scrubbing as delicately as he can against the dirt. He cups a bit of water to run over her shoulders to wash the lather away before continuing to her lower back and along her sides, ever careful.

“What did you think of her?” He asks in regards to Zariah. Maea already knew his distaste of her teacher, but he wonders what she thinks of her on her own. And with the mention of Loren, his fingers still along her spine. “I saw him before I left Halo. He told me about your promise.” His voice is a bit quieter there, but he recovers enough to continue to try and lather more soap upon her pale and battered skin.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint