And I was starting to feel the way I used to So just keep on laughing at the bad news
'Cause it's bringing me back Bringing me back
'Cause it's bringing me back Bringing me back
Sunjata is slow to wake, a fact that awakens endless frustration in Nate. The sun is up barely, the birds are singing barely, and they are getting married. The ascended wouldn’t be able to slow down if he wanted to, has been quietly bouncing in anticipation until this moment. Every night is long for him, but this one had dragged, on and on and on.
A not so steady steadying hand is offered out, as finally Sunjata rises, sways, and steps into the room. Satisfied that they’re both moving, both getting ready, Nate turns his full attention to the window, the bord still stubbornly holding fast. It takes a long moment of thinking to realize pulling out would be easier, the board coming loose no sooner than the thought had come to mind. He doesn’t remember why they can’t simply leave, why they have to be clandestine about their eloping, but he knows it’s important. Just as he knows that the hole he’s opened will be enough, that they’ll somehow work it out.
Arms wrap around him, Nate leaning back into the embrace eagerly, his eye slipping closed and his arm rising to hold onto Sunjata. Fingers trace swirling patterns into the skin behind the attuned’s ear, Nate humming while he thought. ”Rings. Knife. Um... I need to...” His free hand waved up and down in front of his body, his mostly undressed state.
Nate stands as his fiancé steps back, far less graceful than Sunjata, managing to stumble to his knees within a breath of rising, his body not at all ready for the change, after the strain to open the window. Gods, maybe he really is getting sick. It’s his first chance to see his partner dressed up, a grin that is trying too hard to be flirty and not hopelessly, completely in love flooding over his face. ”You do look good in a bow tie.”
The realization just acts as a drive to move around properly, his own shirt scavenged from a corner, pulled on hastily. It’s only at the last second that Nate remembers to not roll the sleeves up, to snag a bow tie and wrap it around his neck, letting it hang down when he realizes he doesn’t know how to tie it. Returning to Sunjatas side, he shrugs helplessly, a grin on his face. ”Help?” A hand lifts to push his fluid damp hair back, forcing it into some measure of neat, some kind of styled.
Pemota is more than happy to not have to carry anything in her mouth, more than eager to slip out of the stuffy room through the provided opening. All at once, an ide a occurs to Nate, both his hands rising to grab at Sunjata’s, pausing them in their task of helping him (because of course he’s helping, right? Right?) ”We need to... we can be smaller! I can, I need your wrist. When you’re done.” With a sheepish huff, Nate drops the others hands and lets him return to his duty.
A not so steady steadying hand is offered out, as finally Sunjata rises, sways, and steps into the room. Satisfied that they’re both moving, both getting ready, Nate turns his full attention to the window, the bord still stubbornly holding fast. It takes a long moment of thinking to realize pulling out would be easier, the board coming loose no sooner than the thought had come to mind. He doesn’t remember why they can’t simply leave, why they have to be clandestine about their eloping, but he knows it’s important. Just as he knows that the hole he’s opened will be enough, that they’ll somehow work it out.
Arms wrap around him, Nate leaning back into the embrace eagerly, his eye slipping closed and his arm rising to hold onto Sunjata. Fingers trace swirling patterns into the skin behind the attuned’s ear, Nate humming while he thought. ”Rings. Knife. Um... I need to...” His free hand waved up and down in front of his body, his mostly undressed state.
Nate stands as his fiancé steps back, far less graceful than Sunjata, managing to stumble to his knees within a breath of rising, his body not at all ready for the change, after the strain to open the window. Gods, maybe he really is getting sick. It’s his first chance to see his partner dressed up, a grin that is trying too hard to be flirty and not hopelessly, completely in love flooding over his face. ”You do look good in a bow tie.”
The realization just acts as a drive to move around properly, his own shirt scavenged from a corner, pulled on hastily. It’s only at the last second that Nate remembers to not roll the sleeves up, to snag a bow tie and wrap it around his neck, letting it hang down when he realizes he doesn’t know how to tie it. Returning to Sunjatas side, he shrugs helplessly, a grin on his face. ”Help?” A hand lifts to push his fluid damp hair back, forcing it into some measure of neat, some kind of styled.
Pemota is more than happy to not have to carry anything in her mouth, more than eager to slip out of the stuffy room through the provided opening. All at once, an ide a occurs to Nate, both his hands rising to grab at Sunjata’s, pausing them in their task of helping him (because of course he’s helping, right? Right?) ”We need to... we can be smaller! I can, I need your wrist. When you’re done.” With a sheepish huff, Nate drops the others hands and lets him return to his duty.
NATE
