if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?
is it safer if we just say that we tried?
He can’t help but to watch, pulling away with the rag as the singing begins to stop – as the smoke begins to sway away, as there’s nothing else other than just the open gaping wound across Nate’s face. But he pulls away, reluctantly enough, far enough that Nate can grab the bucket and proceeds to drink and spit it out – and he gets it, gods does he fucking get it. But he’s here for the Ascended, for his lover, for his moonlight until the end. It’s that thought that has him watching as the water drips from Nate’s face – the clear water tinged with a bit of an iridescent sheen that has him internally screaming once again.
But he lets Nate have whatever time he needs, whatever else he needs, to instruct him and tell him what to do. Because he’s never been the one to do this, never been the one to rush in and help people, always the one born and bred to cause and reap destruction… But no, there’s no time to dwell on that, not with the adrenaline running high in his system. Nate speaks, and Sunjata listens as if it’s the last thing he can do.
A confirmation. A ‘you have me’ that has Sunjata exhaling a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. But the next statement has him confused a small amount, piecing it together as it suddenly dawns on him. “Okay.” He says softly, quietly, hoarse and sore and aching for his lover, even as the space between them grows when Nate pushes himself away. And all he can do is swallow hard again, knee popping as he goes to stand, to call Haai over toward the little kitchenesque area once more, grabbing a small knife – half thinking of using the daggers, but one is still stained red and they’re large and clunky for the work Sunjata needs to do.
So he grabs something small, something easy to move and do exactly as Nate’s requested, even if it rebels against everything inside him to do it. They remain in the kitchen for the moment, however, Haai producing a small flame to heat the knife (– can Ascendeds get diseases and sickness? He’s never asked, but it seems an important step regardless –) then he waits for it to cool, pouring a small glass of strong alcohol and dipping it in, pulling it out as the residual heat dries it out.
And then they’re heading back to where Nate’s leaned back against the pillows, Haai hopping up in the space to Nate’s right, Sunjata on the other side to the left – holding the knife carefully in his left hand as his right turns to reach out for Nate’s arm, to tell him that he’s there, before it’s traveling up to the Ascended’s jaw. “Come here – look at me.” He says softly, trying to angle Nate’s face toward him.
Up this close has his heart thundering and roaring in his ears, the slight tremble to his hand that he steadies by pressing his ring finger and pinky to Nate’s cheek, starting at the end of the gash to carve out the singed portions. “Talk to me, skatjie.” A soft murmur, a distraction or anything. He doesn’t care if it’s understandable or not. All he wants is some sort of conversation, a distraction from the sound of the scraping and carving. At the start of the wound, it doesn’t seem quite so bad, even if it sends his stomach into spiral after spiral to be carving out his lover’s face, but he does it anyway – drifting a bit further toward the center of Nate’s face, hissing as the blade carves deeper and deeper to get more of it out.
But he lets Nate have whatever time he needs, whatever else he needs, to instruct him and tell him what to do. Because he’s never been the one to do this, never been the one to rush in and help people, always the one born and bred to cause and reap destruction… But no, there’s no time to dwell on that, not with the adrenaline running high in his system. Nate speaks, and Sunjata listens as if it’s the last thing he can do.
A confirmation. A ‘you have me’ that has Sunjata exhaling a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. But the next statement has him confused a small amount, piecing it together as it suddenly dawns on him. “Okay.” He says softly, quietly, hoarse and sore and aching for his lover, even as the space between them grows when Nate pushes himself away. And all he can do is swallow hard again, knee popping as he goes to stand, to call Haai over toward the little kitchenesque area once more, grabbing a small knife – half thinking of using the daggers, but one is still stained red and they’re large and clunky for the work Sunjata needs to do.
So he grabs something small, something easy to move and do exactly as Nate’s requested, even if it rebels against everything inside him to do it. They remain in the kitchen for the moment, however, Haai producing a small flame to heat the knife (– can Ascendeds get diseases and sickness? He’s never asked, but it seems an important step regardless –) then he waits for it to cool, pouring a small glass of strong alcohol and dipping it in, pulling it out as the residual heat dries it out.
And then they’re heading back to where Nate’s leaned back against the pillows, Haai hopping up in the space to Nate’s right, Sunjata on the other side to the left – holding the knife carefully in his left hand as his right turns to reach out for Nate’s arm, to tell him that he’s there, before it’s traveling up to the Ascended’s jaw. “Come here – look at me.” He says softly, trying to angle Nate’s face toward him.
Up this close has his heart thundering and roaring in his ears, the slight tremble to his hand that he steadies by pressing his ring finger and pinky to Nate’s cheek, starting at the end of the gash to carve out the singed portions. “Talk to me, skatjie.” A soft murmur, a distraction or anything. He doesn’t care if it’s understandable or not. All he wants is some sort of conversation, a distraction from the sound of the scraping and carving. At the start of the wound, it doesn’t seem quite so bad, even if it sends his stomach into spiral after spiral to be carving out his lover’s face, but he does it anyway – drifting a bit further toward the center of Nate’s face, hissing as the blade carves deeper and deeper to get more of it out.
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.
