if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?
is it safer if we just say that we tried?
Sunjata doesn’t mind the fact Nate’s slower than he otherwise would be. He doesn’t mind how long it takes them to get up both flights of stairs. He doesn’t mind that by the end of it, he’s clinging to Nate just as much as the Ascended clings to the Attuned. And before he knows it, he’s got Nate sitting there on the bed while he slips away to grab blankets and a variety of whatever else they might need – a change of clothes for later, perhaps, somewhere thrown into the mix. But the main point was blankets, for the covering and the hiding, the darkness.
Haai moves wherever Nate needs her to, pressing her dark body against him, letting him press against her equally as much. And when Sunjata returns, there’s those hands that reach for his hips and that’s when Sunjata begins to falter. He asks Nate to remove his shirt, to get it out from where it could cling as yet another reminder to the Ascended’s tattooed skin. And there’s no grace, no carefulness that occurs when Nate tears his shirt off. Internally, Sunjata winces, but he does nothing other than be there for him.
So he takes the shirt and discards it into a heap with whatever else. He takes the daggers from his belt and drops them onto the table beside the bed – staring momentarily at the ruby tinged blade, before he takes a deep inhale and moves to climb onto the bed with Nate, heart breaking as Nate’s forehead meets his knees, feels the shaking fists where they connect with Sunjata’s clothes. And so he shifts then, trying to pull Nate into his lap, into his chest, anywhere where he can get his arms wrapped around him and pulling the blankets around as Haai presses against Nate’s other side. A cocoon for him to fall apart in.
He presses a kiss to Nate’s temple, swallowing down the anguish in his gut at the sob, before he’s lightly resting his head along Nate’s crown. “I’ve got you.” He says again, quietly, holding him tighter. “I love you.” Another small squeeze to stop the involuntary flexing of his arms. “You have me.” He will not go anywhere.
Haai moves wherever Nate needs her to, pressing her dark body against him, letting him press against her equally as much. And when Sunjata returns, there’s those hands that reach for his hips and that’s when Sunjata begins to falter. He asks Nate to remove his shirt, to get it out from where it could cling as yet another reminder to the Ascended’s tattooed skin. And there’s no grace, no carefulness that occurs when Nate tears his shirt off. Internally, Sunjata winces, but he does nothing other than be there for him.
So he takes the shirt and discards it into a heap with whatever else. He takes the daggers from his belt and drops them onto the table beside the bed – staring momentarily at the ruby tinged blade, before he takes a deep inhale and moves to climb onto the bed with Nate, heart breaking as Nate’s forehead meets his knees, feels the shaking fists where they connect with Sunjata’s clothes. And so he shifts then, trying to pull Nate into his lap, into his chest, anywhere where he can get his arms wrapped around him and pulling the blankets around as Haai presses against Nate’s other side. A cocoon for him to fall apart in.
He presses a kiss to Nate’s temple, swallowing down the anguish in his gut at the sob, before he’s lightly resting his head along Nate’s crown. “I’ve got you.” He says again, quietly, holding him tighter. “I love you.” Another small squeeze to stop the involuntary flexing of his arms. “You have me.” He will not go anywhere.
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.
