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
It is a battle of sorts, both left with marks from the tryst, both sweating and far too warm after the event (at least for him), and he’s tired. The muscles in his arms and legs tremble as his wave crests and falls, riding out the aftershocks, revitalized in the afterglow. She’s helpful through it all, content to be moved this way and that, and when they both slow until Sunjata’s content to stop, he feels her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her to keep her close, feeling the brush of lips against his neck.
There’s a hum of a laugh, not entirely full through the breaths he tries to even out, but he tilts his head a bit to capture her cheek or jaw in a light and gentle kiss. “It is hot.” Comes his hoarse reply, playing off her words, going to move her and clean up a small amount — already craving a shower yet still too drunk to stand and deal with all of that. So he readjusts himself on the couch, tugging her along until his back is at the opening of the couch, keeping her between him and the back of the couch while his head finds its place on a pillow.
His hand trails up, brushing her hair back behind her ear while his silver gaze scans her face, a content curve of his lips in a smile, thumb tracing along the column of her neck. “Are you still drunk? I’m still drunk.” He rumbles with a hum of a breathy laugh slipping from his throat.
There’s a hum of a laugh, not entirely full through the breaths he tries to even out, but he tilts his head a bit to capture her cheek or jaw in a light and gentle kiss. “It is hot.” Comes his hoarse reply, playing off her words, going to move her and clean up a small amount — already craving a shower yet still too drunk to stand and deal with all of that. So he readjusts himself on the couch, tugging her along until his back is at the opening of the couch, keeping her between him and the back of the couch while his head finds its place on a pillow.
His hand trails up, brushing her hair back behind her ear while his silver gaze scans her face, a content curve of his lips in a smile, thumb tracing along the column of her neck. “Are you still drunk? I’m still drunk.” He rumbles with a hum of a breathy laugh slipping from his throat.
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.
