// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //
They would figure it out. And unlike Sunjata in most of his other relationships, he’s willing to tell Nate when something is off, when something is broken, when he doesn’t feel as strong as has been drilled into his head since he was just a boy. ”Show no weakness” though Sunjata’d made shifts to that, expressing the weakness to those he trusts. And he trusts no one more than Nate and Hotaru. It’s what makes it easier to recollect the bits and pieces that he can, even if Nate doesn’t want to know. It helps him get a feel for the events that happened.
He is lucky. In more ways than one. But he continues to idly let his hand trace along the scars on the inside of his elbow, the inside of his bicep, unfocused gaze remaining on the table in front of him, watching Nate from his peripheral vision. He is home. He is safe for now. And that’s all that matters as Nate arrives with the bowl of soup – Sunjata’s arms slipping back from the top of the table to focus on the bowl – his right hand reaching to rest at the edge of the bowl, a pinky twitching with the residuals of his night. His left hand grabs the spoon, idly stirring as Nate lists out the plan.
The last time he’d had a bath had been after Peter and Adam were killed, when Maea had helped him get rid of the blood of that cannibal, when his mind had begun to fracture for the second time. And now, this time, he knows Nate’s got him. “I wouldn’t mind not having to stand.” He comments quietly, an attempt at humor but it falls flat as humanly possible. He begins to take a bite of the soup – working his way slowly as to not bother his stomach too much with the sudden amount of food where there otherwise sat a pit of anxiety and regret. “Dankie.” He murmurs once a few bites are down, pausing to let it settle. The hand around the bowl that trembles slips out to reach for Nate – his stone pillar.
He is lucky. In more ways than one. But he continues to idly let his hand trace along the scars on the inside of his elbow, the inside of his bicep, unfocused gaze remaining on the table in front of him, watching Nate from his peripheral vision. He is home. He is safe for now. And that’s all that matters as Nate arrives with the bowl of soup – Sunjata’s arms slipping back from the top of the table to focus on the bowl – his right hand reaching to rest at the edge of the bowl, a pinky twitching with the residuals of his night. His left hand grabs the spoon, idly stirring as Nate lists out the plan.
The last time he’d had a bath had been after Peter and Adam were killed, when Maea had helped him get rid of the blood of that cannibal, when his mind had begun to fracture for the second time. And now, this time, he knows Nate’s got him. “I wouldn’t mind not having to stand.” He comments quietly, an attempt at humor but it falls flat as humanly possible. He begins to take a bite of the soup – working his way slowly as to not bother his stomach too much with the sudden amount of food where there otherwise sat a pit of anxiety and regret. “Dankie.” He murmurs once a few bites are down, pausing to let it settle. The hand around the bowl that trembles slips out to reach for Nate – his stone pillar.
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.
