I saw the crosses of empty cathedrals whose prospects were hanging out in bars
He doesn’t know who’s the luckiest between the two of them. If anything, Sunjata thinks he perhaps is luckier to have Nate, to have this, afraid of seeing just how far he could go in the wrong direction before everything blew apart again. A volcanic eruption, a shift into becoming so much like his fucking father that he hated who he was whenever the thoughts drifted that way, a momentary lapse before having Nate pinned against the wall while the Ascended insisted he’d stay through it all.
Did he regret it? Not knowing what he was agreeing to? Had Sunjata failed Nate in that way, of only being one step away from disaster with one foot in the grave ever since they met?
Had he failed Nate by not noticing the way things were edged rough until this morning when it was too evident to miss? He really needed to become more attentive, more acknowledging. Nate cares about him so fucking much, and Sunjata cares too — but has he kept that last lingering piece of a mask up that kept Nate out? From letting him be able to talk about his concerns? Another thought of when he’d returned from being stabbed, of the panic that had been swallowed down, the attempts to pretend like everything was okay.
It really wasn’t, was it?
“I can’t wait.” He offers, falling into the ease of it to mask the shift in his gut. The truth to that strong enough in the look he gives toward Nate, in the returned squeeze to the hand that finds his. The question of his gut has him looking up from finishing the rest of Nate’s plate before he finds it in him to respond. “Sore.” He answers honestly, but the smile he sends Nate’s way tells him not to worry about it. “Haai almost smacked me with her paw this morning but she didn’t. It’s just inflamed I think from that and my freak out upstairs.” He offers, another bit of honest truth.
And when he finishes his coffee, he shifts a bit to slide out of the seat, out from beneath Nate’s comfortable weight of his leg to stand. Though his hand stays in the Ascended’s as he stacks the bowls and cutlery with his other hand, a light tug given to Nate to follow him. “I’ll do the dishes since you cooked.” He hums, leaning over to press a kiss to Nate’s temple, a quiet suggestion goes unsaid that they could talk about what was wrong while he had the water running, something else to focus on as well.
Did he regret it? Not knowing what he was agreeing to? Had Sunjata failed Nate in that way, of only being one step away from disaster with one foot in the grave ever since they met?
Had he failed Nate by not noticing the way things were edged rough until this morning when it was too evident to miss? He really needed to become more attentive, more acknowledging. Nate cares about him so fucking much, and Sunjata cares too — but has he kept that last lingering piece of a mask up that kept Nate out? From letting him be able to talk about his concerns? Another thought of when he’d returned from being stabbed, of the panic that had been swallowed down, the attempts to pretend like everything was okay.
It really wasn’t, was it?
“I can’t wait.” He offers, falling into the ease of it to mask the shift in his gut. The truth to that strong enough in the look he gives toward Nate, in the returned squeeze to the hand that finds his. The question of his gut has him looking up from finishing the rest of Nate’s plate before he finds it in him to respond. “Sore.” He answers honestly, but the smile he sends Nate’s way tells him not to worry about it. “Haai almost smacked me with her paw this morning but she didn’t. It’s just inflamed I think from that and my freak out upstairs.” He offers, another bit of honest truth.
And when he finishes his coffee, he shifts a bit to slide out of the seat, out from beneath Nate’s comfortable weight of his leg to stand. Though his hand stays in the Ascended’s as he stacks the bowls and cutlery with his other hand, a light tug given to Nate to follow him. “I’ll do the dishes since you cooked.” He hums, leaning over to press a kiss to Nate’s temple, a quiet suggestion goes unsaid that they could talk about what was wrong while he had the water running, something else to focus on as well.
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.
