with the length of my blade, let history be written

all i can do is stand on the curb and say sorry about the blood in your mouth

All of the pressure around him seems to do something to hold him together, to keep him from drifting completely. Nate's still distant, still worryingly limp, and he seems to sag a little more as the attuned's words reach him, though it's hard to tell if it's from relief, or something else.

There's no way he could be closer to Sunjata if he tried at this point, and yet he still tries, they both still try. Maybe, if he could just press into the other man enough, it would make him feel something, would bring some kind of sense to this. "What... what would I do without you?" The second tim the thought's come up, and the second time his mind readily supplies the answer: I would have died. I would be dead. It's not comforting, though the good(?) thing about the numbness is that it's not particularly upsetting either, simply a fact, in the same way that things are never going to be the same is a fact.

It's already scarred into his mind after all, even if everything else heals, that won't leave him so easily.

i wish it was mine

NATE

if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?

is it safer if we just say that we tried?

What would he have done without Sunjata? Well, there’s a question to be sure of whether or not he’d have even been in this situation. There’s the question that maybe something worse would have happened. There’s so many questions that he can’t answer, thankful still that he was there, lending that support even if that rage of his swelled and burned with the loss of getting the revenge he so sorely sought.

But all he can do is lock his arms around Nate, bury his face into the Ascended’s long dark hair, grounding himself. “I’m sure I asked you the same once before.” He rumbles, latching onto something. He grows quiet for a small amount of time, mulling over how to say what it is he wants to say, before sighing and realizing that he’s never going to quite get the wording right. And perhaps that’s for the best, no filters, no mulling it over, just pure honest truth. “There’s nothing that could take me away from you. Nothing, Nate.” There’s confidence in his voice, a steel edge akin to the blades on the bedside table. But it grows softer at the end, a slight shift as he presses his face against Nate’s again. “You hear me?” Unlike the first time Sunjata had said it, this time it’s soft — a gentle prodding, an understanding that regardless of what the Ascended did or had happen to him, Sunjata was with him.

are we laughing at the danger?

are we dancing after death, you and I?

all i can do is stand on the curb and say sorry about the blood in your mouth

In any other situation, NAte would be drifting, sinking through scenario after scenario, what if, what if, what if, an incessant cry to delve deeper into thoughts away from reality. Now though, his world has shrunk very much indeed, his mind barely able to accept himself and the arms encircling him. There was no room whatsoever for what if, because it had happened. And he'd never thought past that point, never gotten to the now what?

And he doesn't know what to do, how to act, and it kills him.

So he holds tight to Sunjata, tries to focus on the words, the reassurances, tries to not wonder if the other man is hurting worse than he is now. Nate shifts, keeping his head, his face carefully angled away from the other man as he moves. It takes him a moment to realize he's being asked something, another to realize he should answer. "I hear you." Comes the mumble, voice sounding like it belongs to someone else. Then, just as mechanical, just as hollow: "What'm I... what're we gonna do?"

i wish it was mine

NATE

if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?

is it safer if we just say that we tried?

Sunjata had delved into the what ifs so many times before now, that suddenly now that one was nearly upon them, he wasn’t sure what to think. He knew what to do – as instinctual as everything else, even when the shifts within his skin rampaged a cross between predator and prey, anger and fear. All he can do is keep them under control, to not snarl his rampage and to not cower. Because of Nate, because of this.

He needs to be strong, and strong he becomes.

Nate shifts, and Sunjata lets him – keeping that touch and closeness and letting Nate lead the charge and what happens next. But the question isn’t one that Sunjata can really answer – not without the edge of his rage appearing. He takes a moment to steady himself, to chew on the inside of his cheek. “We’re going to make sure you heal as much as you can. We’ll take you to the Voice and see what she can do.” He says, even if his tone shudders a small amount with the thought. “We’ll go home where you don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.” He adds quickly to try and cover it up. “And… And I’m going to try and find out who did this.”

are we laughing at the danger?

are we dancing after death, you and I?

all i can do is stand on the curb and say sorry about the blood in your mouth

It's not productive at all, not really, but having a plan helps to get more what if's flowing, sends his mind in a direction, instead of just spinning his wheels. Brings a tone to his voice, like he's trying for something snappish, something angry, but can't quite bring any real heat to his voice. "What if it can't be? If I can't be? If the Voice doesn't do anything?" It almost sounds like an accusation, though it's not clear if it's being aimed at anyone, if it's just an attempt to spew out vitriol. If he can't be upset, can't feel anything, then one of them had to.

Though the effect is broken suddenly, because as it turns out, he can still feel something. Fear. A desperate, panicky shift, his hands wrapping even tighter around Sunjata, his body drawing in even closer, leaving a void for Haai to lean in and fill. "Don't. Don't." It's a whisper, full of strangled panic. What if this wasn't about him at all? Just a threat, a warning, a way to draw out Sunjata. If the other man came back injured, or worse, didn't come back at all, that would be even more painful than this, that would be the final straw.

i wish it was mine

NATE

if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?

is it safer if we just say that we tried?

The fury to Nate’s words, the vitriol that he hints at, all of it Sunjata knows aren’t quite directed at him. And so he blocks it out, keeps it there to deflect and hit the mask he’s so used to holding up, for blocking it. “If she doesn’t do anything I’ll take you to Safrin.” Sunjata offers, a quiet hum of conviction that something would occur from it. And if both of those failed? Well, the least Sunjata could do was find other ways to make it easier for Nate. “And if neither of them can fix it, then we’ll work with what we have.” A quiet confirmation, that even if he were marked and marred, broken in pieces that Sunjata and the gods couldn’t fix, that he’d stay.

It’s that fury that rampages within him until Nate’s arms are tightening around him, as the Ascended buries his head into him a bit more, as Haai leans back to offer more support in the space that’s suddenly open, that Sunjata’s heart sinks a small amount. No place to take out his rage or fury, to get that vindictive part of him to open up and enact a punishment in a job and a title now that he was born to do.

But Nate’s asked it of him, and after a few moments of his silence, he sighs long and slow through his nose – chin dropping atop Nate’s head as he closes his eyes. “If… If that’s what you want.” A concession, even if everything within him rebels against the thought.

are we laughing at the danger?

are we dancing after death, you and I?

all i can do is stand on the curb and say sorry about the blood in your mouth

It sounds so easy. Sunjata makes it sound so simple, and Nate wants to fight against it, wants to keep spitting arguments until they come down to the point that nothing can actually fix this. And all the fight goes out of him in an instant. It’s replaced not by the numbness, at least not completely, but by a quiet steadiness, a faith that the other man would keep his word, would do everything he could to keep things together, to keep them together. The least Nate can try to do is have that same faith, keep it in mind, hold onto it instead of spiralling into nothingness.

He can feel the frustration sigh out of Sunjata, can feel the displeasure even before it comes out with his voice. Nate shifts, reaching up to cup a hand around the attuned’s head, still slick with the oily sheen of fluid. ”I... need you, right now.” He offers softly, by way of explanation. ”Need you close. Safe.” Maybe in the future, when things had settled into something that he could pretend was that easy normalcy from before.

Until then though, anything that put either of them in any amount of danger was going to be fought against.

i wish it was mine

NATE

if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?

is it safer if we just say that we tried?

For Sunjata, it is easy. Because when he’s not spiraling, when he gets out of that moment, he can think to formulate some sort of plan. And now that this one isn’t his own crisis – not an internal one that drives him toward an all too familiar edge, then he can calculate and formulate and figure out what they’ll do. For now, however? He can’t make those steps. Nor does he want to, not with the way Nate is, not with the way how anyone else would’ve likely passed out by now or found a way to cope.

Nate doesn’t get any of those. And it only adds to the fuel some more.

And he concedes, despite the fire burning in his gut at the thought. But Nate’s hand is cupping his head, and he keeps himself close as can be to the Ascended, uncaring of the way the fluid leaves his skin slick, the way it’s cold compared to the fire of his skin and the fire burning within at the attack. “Okay.” He concedes again, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly as if it might pull out the frustration from his heart. It doesn’t, but he wishes it did. “I’m here. I will be, I promise.” He hums quietly, trying to get into some semblance of normalcy despite the fact none of this was.

are we laughing at the danger?

are we dancing after death, you and I?

all i can do is stand on the curb and say sorry about the blood in your mouth

It feels so selfish to ask anything of Sunjata, has a guilt grinding in his gut, one that Nate would never feel otherwise, but here, now, it's too much. He knows his words, his request is keeping closure from the other man, knows they're stymieing justice, but it's the one thing he has the power to ask, the one thing he can still control, in some small way.

Nate settles, falls utterly still against the attuned, his hands wrapped up tightly in the other mans clothes. "Okay." It's an echo, a sound without breath, without anything. The burning might have stopped, but it's still managed to reduce him to a husk, a shell of burnt down ashes trying to keep together, trying to maintain normalcy. He closes his eye, surrenders to a darkness that should be cool unconsciousness, but that will only be a passing of time.

Sunjata is going to have to sleep eventually, they will have to move, make their way home, into whatever comes after this. Things will change

i wish it was mine

NATE

if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?

is it safer if we just say that we tried?

Nate settles despite the frustration lingering in his gut. But he swallows it down, for his lover, his moonlight, finding no other way to channel it aside from ensuring Nate was safe and as okay as he could be. It’s at least enough to get the tension to drain from his body, to get his mind slowing from the rush of thoughts and scenarios that threaten to appear again and again.

So he nestles himself in closer, Haai pressing on Nate’s other side, until Sunjata’s heart evens out from the adrenaline even if it feels somewhat shattered, somewhat torn. Nate’s hands wrapped up in his clothes is a solace at the very least, that they’re in this together just as they said they would be. And it’s enough that over the next hour or so Sunjata only has to minority shift, keeping Nate as close as possible, before the events of the day have drained on him.

He fights hard to stay awake, a constant jarring suddenly — but he knows. Haai is alert, and if anything happens she’ll absolutely let him know. And eventually, the sudden jarring to stay awake begin to stop, as his arms grow somewhat looser around Nate but never leaving him as sleep overtakes him.

— FIN

are we laughing at the danger?

are we dancing after death, you and I?