if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?
is it safer if we just say that we tried?
Sunjata would find out the reason. It was his job after all – to find and stamp out the danger within Torchline. And if it were something seemingly random, Sunjata already has it in his mind to punish the girl for it. He doesn’t know how just yet, doesn’t know any of the other implications of what he’s thinking – but if he doesn’t focus on the sorrow he feels, it’s replaced with the rage of the audacity of an attack like this.
An attack on someone who only wanted to help, who had done nothing but help and save lives. And it burns like a simmering flame within him, ready to appear when Sunjata was ready to face it. In the meantime, however, all he can do is swallow down the ash coating his throat, to focus on carving out the singed pieces of Nate’s face – breathing slightly heavy as his heart continues to thunder over and over again.
Talking both helps and doesn’t, not as he’s slicing out the pieces that are bad, not as he’s hearing that it’s something Nate can feel and is internally destroyed at the fact that it took this to get him to feel something. He doesn’t blame Nate, not in the slightest as Nate trails off, indiscernible sounds leaving him, before he picks back with an instruction Sunjata can follow. But that’s not the part he latches onto, not as his free hand continues to angle Nate’s face wherever he needs to until he’s nearly done with the job. “Don’t be sorry.” He hums, trying to force out any of those thoughts. “It’s not your fault.” He adds onto the end – because it wasn’t, nowhere near being his fault. “We can fix this. Fix you.” He begins, voice trembling slightly, trying to talk his way through it too in order to keep himself just as sane. He can break apart later. “We can go to the Voice. And… And if she doesn’t – I’ll… I’ll take you to Safrin. We’ll fix you.” Another shuddering exhale. “I promise.”
It kills him inside to hear the apology.
So he tries to finish up as quickly as he can, grabbing the wrap, ensuring it’s damp – but as he pulls away a miniscule amount, the blade dropping to the table beside them, Sunjata feels the arm around him and his dark gaze travels back toward Nate with a shaking exhale, leaning into it and pulling Nate equally as close. But he can’t stay that way forever, reluctantly pulling away to grab the wrap and do everything else Nate requests.
And when it’s done, all he can do is kneel there before the Ascended, moving to wrap his arms around Nate and pull him close into himself, as if he might be able to take the fear and spiral and absorb it, to take the burden of it so Nate doesn’t have to deal with it.
Nothing is going to be the same, is it?
“We’ll stay here tonight, okay? Just us. I’ve got you. Do you…” He pauses, taking a deep inhale of breath, trying to latch onto Nate’s scent to steady himself. “Do you want me to carry you? Or would you rather walk?” He’ll do anything. Anything. Already, he slips an arm back to his pocket, pulling out a keyring for the locked upstairs door – prepared to make the upstairs a fucking fortress to keep Nate safe.
An attack on someone who only wanted to help, who had done nothing but help and save lives. And it burns like a simmering flame within him, ready to appear when Sunjata was ready to face it. In the meantime, however, all he can do is swallow down the ash coating his throat, to focus on carving out the singed pieces of Nate’s face – breathing slightly heavy as his heart continues to thunder over and over again.
Talking both helps and doesn’t, not as he’s slicing out the pieces that are bad, not as he’s hearing that it’s something Nate can feel and is internally destroyed at the fact that it took this to get him to feel something. He doesn’t blame Nate, not in the slightest as Nate trails off, indiscernible sounds leaving him, before he picks back with an instruction Sunjata can follow. But that’s not the part he latches onto, not as his free hand continues to angle Nate’s face wherever he needs to until he’s nearly done with the job. “Don’t be sorry.” He hums, trying to force out any of those thoughts. “It’s not your fault.” He adds onto the end – because it wasn’t, nowhere near being his fault. “We can fix this. Fix you.” He begins, voice trembling slightly, trying to talk his way through it too in order to keep himself just as sane. He can break apart later. “We can go to the Voice. And… And if she doesn’t – I’ll… I’ll take you to Safrin. We’ll fix you.” Another shuddering exhale. “I promise.”
It kills him inside to hear the apology.
So he tries to finish up as quickly as he can, grabbing the wrap, ensuring it’s damp – but as he pulls away a miniscule amount, the blade dropping to the table beside them, Sunjata feels the arm around him and his dark gaze travels back toward Nate with a shaking exhale, leaning into it and pulling Nate equally as close. But he can’t stay that way forever, reluctantly pulling away to grab the wrap and do everything else Nate requests.
And when it’s done, all he can do is kneel there before the Ascended, moving to wrap his arms around Nate and pull him close into himself, as if he might be able to take the fear and spiral and absorb it, to take the burden of it so Nate doesn’t have to deal with it.
Nothing is going to be the same, is it?
“We’ll stay here tonight, okay? Just us. I’ve got you. Do you…” He pauses, taking a deep inhale of breath, trying to latch onto Nate’s scent to steady himself. “Do you want me to carry you? Or would you rather walk?” He’ll do anything. Anything. Already, he slips an arm back to his pocket, pulling out a keyring for the locked upstairs door – prepared to make the upstairs a fucking fortress to keep Nate safe.
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.
