SUNJATA
the flood
snow glistens on the ledge, whiskey on the bed
shake it out and light a cigarette
shake it out and light a cigarette
She pokes him in the nose and he wrinkles it at her, the freckles along his cheekbones moving with the gesture as he shakes his head to her. “Serving food and drink isn’t part of a fairytale, I can understand the disappointment.” He shoots back to her, a wink granted before he hums a quiet chuckle. But he watches her as he pointedly doesn’t believe her, that small smirk growing a bit at her comment. “And what if I did deserve it?” A question paired with the slight raise of his brow; the roaming of his hand as it moves to run through her hair.
She loosens the braid, undoing it completely and he tangles his fingers into it a bit more, running it through his fingers. Her comment ignites an almost boyishly crooked smirk as he focuses on her again. “It is not. Not if you know how to use it.” He hums, amusedly sticking his tongue back out at her, taking a moment to let each side of the fork move independently from one another with a wiggle of his brow.
But it disappears once more at her comment, a surprising bark of laughter leaving him as he pulls her closer and she nestles in, legs tangling with one another, feathers draped over her like a blanket of sorts that soon would shift again. “I’m honored to not have a Weaver approved stab wound.” He replies, turning his head toward her to scan her face again, amusement lingering within him as his hand pulls away from her hair then, to run his fingertips along her side.
The fire begins to dim, and he can tell as the darkness sets in — so he shifts a bit, giving her a bit more space, but able to wrap both arms around her, adjusting his head to try and rest it along the crook of her neck, the feathers giving way for the bat wings again, able to keep the heat in better with her wrapped up in his arms even despite how sensitive they were. “We’re pretty shit at this whole thinking of good things, aren’t we?” He muses, lips hovering above her neck, the warmth of his breath raking along it.
She loosens the braid, undoing it completely and he tangles his fingers into it a bit more, running it through his fingers. Her comment ignites an almost boyishly crooked smirk as he focuses on her again. “It is not. Not if you know how to use it.” He hums, amusedly sticking his tongue back out at her, taking a moment to let each side of the fork move independently from one another with a wiggle of his brow.
But it disappears once more at her comment, a surprising bark of laughter leaving him as he pulls her closer and she nestles in, legs tangling with one another, feathers draped over her like a blanket of sorts that soon would shift again. “I’m honored to not have a Weaver approved stab wound.” He replies, turning his head toward her to scan her face again, amusement lingering within him as his hand pulls away from her hair then, to run his fingertips along her side.
The fire begins to dim, and he can tell as the darkness sets in — so he shifts a bit, giving her a bit more space, but able to wrap both arms around her, adjusting his head to try and rest it along the crook of her neck, the feathers giving way for the bat wings again, able to keep the heat in better with her wrapped up in his arms even despite how sensitive they were. “We’re pretty shit at this whole thinking of good things, aren’t we?” He muses, lips hovering above her neck, the warmth of his breath raking along it.
miss me when you, you wish you weren't right
shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
shake me all out if i'm wrong, for you, for you
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.
