I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars
The cigarette is placed back in his lips, but he doesn’t remove his arm from Nate nor does he stop stirring the pot with his other hand. Instead, he drags from the cigarette a bit lightly, exhaling smoke that curls around his nose as he watches Nate inspect the stitching briefly — wondering if he sees the red paw mark that’s close to it but off to the left. But the words that leave the Ascended have an innocent look crossing Sunjata’s face, though the smile that forms around the cigarette has it hanging a small amount as he hums a light laugh. “Look, anything is better than the shit we ate in the resistance.” He offers, a visible shudder running through his spine as he recalls it. “But by all means, blame me. I won’t tell.” A playful wink is given, ahhh of a laugh.
It’s not like he knows what he’s doing in the kitchen anyway.
But he leans into Nate, turning his head slightly to catch the kiss on his lips and return it, steel eyes easily finding electric blues. “Love you too.” He murmurs softly — finding it so much easier to say it the more times he does, so much less anxiety and nausea inducing.
He continues to stir until he really kind of can’t anymore, and thankfully Nate is there with the bowls and alleviating him from his job as the verified pot stirrer (ha, get it?) before he’s pulling out of Nate’s grip to grab the utensils, watching Nate balance the bowls and fill them, as well as grabbing his mug. Sunjata takes the time to grab both spoons and forks, because why not both? And puts the cigarette out in an ashtray by the window before grabbing his own cup of coffee and moving to sit beside Nate rather than across — wanting to give him as much of the closeness he can with his body and his person.
He sets the mug down beside his bowl, giving both a fork and a spoon to Nate before he’s grabbing his own fork to pierce into the food — but he’s got a decent amount of those Korofi traditions when it comes to politeness (quite ingrained deep in his mind) and he waits for Nate to take the first bite before he follows suit. Though he pauses just enough to offer him a brighter grin, a hand reaching over to run his thumb along Nate’s cheek and run his fingers through his dark hair before he retracts. “Thank you.” For breakfast, and for everything.
It’s not like he knows what he’s doing in the kitchen anyway.
But he leans into Nate, turning his head slightly to catch the kiss on his lips and return it, steel eyes easily finding electric blues. “Love you too.” He murmurs softly — finding it so much easier to say it the more times he does, so much less anxiety and nausea inducing.
He continues to stir until he really kind of can’t anymore, and thankfully Nate is there with the bowls and alleviating him from his job as the verified pot stirrer (ha, get it?) before he’s pulling out of Nate’s grip to grab the utensils, watching Nate balance the bowls and fill them, as well as grabbing his mug. Sunjata takes the time to grab both spoons and forks, because why not both? And puts the cigarette out in an ashtray by the window before grabbing his own cup of coffee and moving to sit beside Nate rather than across — wanting to give him as much of the closeness he can with his body and his person.
He sets the mug down beside his bowl, giving both a fork and a spoon to Nate before he’s grabbing his own fork to pierce into the food — but he’s got a decent amount of those Korofi traditions when it comes to politeness (quite ingrained deep in his mind) and he waits for Nate to take the first bite before he follows suit. Though he pauses just enough to offer him a brighter grin, a hand reaching over to run his thumb along Nate’s cheek and run his fingers through his dark hair before he retracts. “Thank you.” For breakfast, and for everything.
SUNJATA
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.
