all's well that ends

// a reminder, ready when you find her, i repress the iridescence of a fire
won't you mind him, steady when you find him, i confess the incandescence of a dyin' light //

“The kind that plays all sides.” He says, watching as the circlet begins to shift and the horns grow upon Amun’s own head as well, a snort leaving him. Those that required external trinkets to do what he could do from within, certainly weren’t a threat to him. But he makes no comment on it, nothing but a glimpse of boredom that crosses his face.

He doesn’t want more than he has. He has everything he’s ever wanted.

Right?

Right.

He watches as Amun licks the blood from his hands, and for a moment he glances down to the hand that’s smeared the inky black blood along his skin, that soaks up in the tearing fabric of his shirt. His gaze narrows back on Amun, seeing it for what it is.

A sip turns into more, and more turns into having nothing left.

But he’s thirsty too, and his throat parches with the thought as accusations come spinning back at him. The scent of fluid sparks in the air, and Sunjata knows it. Knows it from somewhere, but where?

“I am nothing but honest.” He rumbles, taking a step toward Amun, blood still pricking and beginning to drip down from his chest. The hand with blood on it reaches up to grab Amun’s chin again, to tear him away from slicing up his lips. “Choose your words carefully.” Another quiet hum, a prompt.

Make it good, or miss out.

SUNJATA