if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?
is it safer if we just say that we tried?
He doesn’t think he’s been gone too long — the quick skip toward the kitchenesque section of the ring to grab water and rags, while Haai seeks out a mirror, and before too long he’s back, offering his comfort, offering whatever he can. Nate latches onto the mirror and Sunjata swallows hard against it, throat dry as he tells Nate what it is, confirms he has water at the ready, watching with everything he can muster at the shaking hands that lift the mirror.
He silently tells Haai to get a few larger towels, something to rest against Nate’s shoulders while they survey the damage. His steel gaze is dark, full of those shadows and storms of before, watching in what feels like slow motion and yet still too fast as Nate lifts the bandage. It’s deep, able to see bone through the smoldering edges and Sunjata’s already reaching for the towels that Haai drops beside him. He lifts them, pressing and draping them over the Ascended’s shoulder — missing the reveal of Nate’s eye, or more accurately, what’s left of it.
It’s the laugh that draws his gaze back, hand fishing for the cup to fill with water and bring it up as Nate’s anguish is aired and begins to die off, and he freezes for who knows how long. It isn’t until the instruction is granted that he realizes it, kneeling there with the water in the cup — half between telling him to hold his breath or close his eyes, but why does it matter? He’s still sizzling, and Sunjata snaps out of it immediately to wrap one arm around Nate for support, the next dousing the singe along his face, pouring it along Nate’s forehead so it’ll run down through the cracks and wash out whatever else remains. “I’ve got you.” He repeats from earlier, far hoarser, far dryer and crackling. A mantra from earlier, one that he clings to.
And he does it again, until he’s satisfied enough that he grabs the cloth now, soaking it and squeezing out just enough to apply to the worst of the damage, hoping to send more of the water into the places it might pull it further through, careful as he can be to not make it worse, feeling the way Nate sags into him, and gods does it hurt as much this time as it had before.
He silently tells Haai to get a few larger towels, something to rest against Nate’s shoulders while they survey the damage. His steel gaze is dark, full of those shadows and storms of before, watching in what feels like slow motion and yet still too fast as Nate lifts the bandage. It’s deep, able to see bone through the smoldering edges and Sunjata’s already reaching for the towels that Haai drops beside him. He lifts them, pressing and draping them over the Ascended’s shoulder — missing the reveal of Nate’s eye, or more accurately, what’s left of it.
It’s the laugh that draws his gaze back, hand fishing for the cup to fill with water and bring it up as Nate’s anguish is aired and begins to die off, and he freezes for who knows how long. It isn’t until the instruction is granted that he realizes it, kneeling there with the water in the cup — half between telling him to hold his breath or close his eyes, but why does it matter? He’s still sizzling, and Sunjata snaps out of it immediately to wrap one arm around Nate for support, the next dousing the singe along his face, pouring it along Nate’s forehead so it’ll run down through the cracks and wash out whatever else remains. “I’ve got you.” He repeats from earlier, far hoarser, far dryer and crackling. A mantra from earlier, one that he clings to.
And he does it again, until he’s satisfied enough that he grabs the cloth now, soaking it and squeezing out just enough to apply to the worst of the damage, hoping to send more of the water into the places it might pull it further through, careful as he can be to not make it worse, feeling the way Nate sags into him, and gods does it hurt as much this time as it had before.
are we laughing at the danger?
are we dancing after death, you and I?
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.
