SUNJATA
The shadows Sunjata sees are different – similar to bats in the sense that they dive from above, tendrils of shadows reaching out to tug at his hair, at the horns that spiral with uncertainty around the crown of his head. He lets Nate adjust his arms however, fevered and heavy limbs settling around Nate’s shoulders, the front of his body pressed against Nate’s back, trying to keep as much closeness as possible.
They make it down the stairs, despite Sunjata’s occasional ducking away from the tendrils of shadows – the flinch mimicked the same as Nate’s when relief comes in the sensation of a surprisingly warm hand, cradling his cheek, and the safety he feels between the shielding blanket and the cupping of his face makes some small amount of clarity come through. So he ducks his head in, next to Nate’s, chin resting just above Nate’s shoulder while they pause and Sunjata nuzzles his head into the hand that soothes him.
But they’re still standing still, still vulnerable, and the question is met with Sunjata’s eyes slipping open to scan the dusky interior of their home, watching the shadows dance between door frame to door frame. “Left… To the kitchen.” He rumbles, trying to apply some amount of pressure to the arms latched around Nate’s shoulders like a scarf, as if he might guide him.
They make it down the stairs, despite Sunjata’s occasional ducking away from the tendrils of shadows – the flinch mimicked the same as Nate’s when relief comes in the sensation of a surprisingly warm hand, cradling his cheek, and the safety he feels between the shielding blanket and the cupping of his face makes some small amount of clarity come through. So he ducks his head in, next to Nate’s, chin resting just above Nate’s shoulder while they pause and Sunjata nuzzles his head into the hand that soothes him.
But they’re still standing still, still vulnerable, and the question is met with Sunjata’s eyes slipping open to scan the dusky interior of their home, watching the shadows dance between door frame to door frame. “Left… To the kitchen.” He rumbles, trying to apply some amount of pressure to the arms latched around Nate’s shoulders like a scarf, as if he might guide him.
we were young, dumb, taking our chance and making romance and breaking our promises
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
trying to be and failing miserably, but am i too late or hearts to your spades?
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.
