SUNJATA
the flood
i can't believe that you could just say
that "the answers unlock this gate"
that "the answers unlock this gate"
Nate does do better at the stillness, and somehow Sunjata wonders as he focuses on the sharp lines of Nate’s face, the blues of his eyes, the emotions swimming beneath them, how he hadn’t quite noticed it before. How he hadn’t noticed the way the fire in the fireplace flickers along the Ascended’s pale skin and flickering along the pearlescent hue of the tears that have fallen and track along his face regardless of how Nate wipes away his own. He’s not sure what to do, not sure what he can do as Nate responds and Sunjata feels this strange need to hold his breath, to continue to try and gasp for breath to try and swallow down that tightness of his throat.
He feels Nate’s hands roam, twisting into ashen clothes and streaking grey and black along bronze and black tattooed skin, but Sunjata can’t help but to let that heavy look cross over his face. Somewhere deep within he’s tired of these confessions, tired of explaining how difficult it is for him to admit to them and give into them when he couldn’t even get over his past. That he’d always end up keeping one foot in the past and one foot forward, regardless of how much he tried to change it.
Perhaps he wasn’t worth changing.
But one thing, the one thing he knows from Nate… He knows the Ascended doesn’t have that goal, doesn’t want to change how he does things, how he is at his core. And perhaps it makes this easier, perhaps it breaks through and the fact that all along in the rest of his drama and chaos that he was simply just waiting for something like this.
He doesn’t expect Nate’s gaze to drop, to drift with his not-answer. And Sunjata’s quick to change it, fingers tightening in raven hair, trying to keep Nate from pulling away while his other hand reaches for the Ascended’s own jaw and cheek, a calloused thumb stroking along the tracks of oily Ascended fluid and not caring if it mixes and melds into a dark hue along their ashen clothes and bodies. “Nate…” He rumbles, voice even more accented somehow.
“I want that. I… Need that, especially right now.” If only to prevent himself from somehow going and drowning out his problems with the multitude of alcohol and cigarettes that wouldn’t help the wheezing and tightness of his lungs. “But I can’t say it back, I can’t. Not for a while, maybe not ever. I don’t… I don’t know.” He stumbles, stutters, trying to pull Nate’s head up to look at him and near his face near the Ascendeds, nose to nose, searching.
“Even though I try to push you away, please don't go. Please stay.” With him, with whatever other bullshit comes his way. Try to make him realize that it's not all his fault at the end of the day regardless of how much he's going to try and make it out to be.
He feels Nate’s hands roam, twisting into ashen clothes and streaking grey and black along bronze and black tattooed skin, but Sunjata can’t help but to let that heavy look cross over his face. Somewhere deep within he’s tired of these confessions, tired of explaining how difficult it is for him to admit to them and give into them when he couldn’t even get over his past. That he’d always end up keeping one foot in the past and one foot forward, regardless of how much he tried to change it.
Perhaps he wasn’t worth changing.
But one thing, the one thing he knows from Nate… He knows the Ascended doesn’t have that goal, doesn’t want to change how he does things, how he is at his core. And perhaps it makes this easier, perhaps it breaks through and the fact that all along in the rest of his drama and chaos that he was simply just waiting for something like this.
He doesn’t expect Nate’s gaze to drop, to drift with his not-answer. And Sunjata’s quick to change it, fingers tightening in raven hair, trying to keep Nate from pulling away while his other hand reaches for the Ascended’s own jaw and cheek, a calloused thumb stroking along the tracks of oily Ascended fluid and not caring if it mixes and melds into a dark hue along their ashen clothes and bodies. “Nate…” He rumbles, voice even more accented somehow.
“I want that. I… Need that, especially right now.” If only to prevent himself from somehow going and drowning out his problems with the multitude of alcohol and cigarettes that wouldn’t help the wheezing and tightness of his lungs. “But I can’t say it back, I can’t. Not for a while, maybe not ever. I don’t… I don’t know.” He stumbles, stutters, trying to pull Nate’s head up to look at him and near his face near the Ascendeds, nose to nose, searching.
“Even though I try to push you away, please don't go. Please stay.” With him, with whatever other bullshit comes his way. Try to make him realize that it's not all his fault at the end of the day regardless of how much he's going to try and make it out to be.
'cause if you knew his name, not a thing would change
you'd still be wishing you were blessed
you'd still be wishing you were blessed
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.
