// i found a way i could catch that feel good, skies been turnin', fires been burnin' since '93
wait just a moment, i can drop my values, skies been turnin', fires been burnin' since 17 //
wait just a moment, i can drop my values, skies been turnin', fires been burnin' since 17 //
I got distracted. He says, as if it weren’t absolutely fucking obvious that was the case. And if his jaw wasn’t throbbing, he’d be burying his face into the arms that wrap around him to pick him up. But he can’t, so he instead lets his nose be placed wherever, the smoothness with which his husband carries him up the stairs appreciative as much as it is depressing that he has to do this again.
But he’s along for the ride, quiet whimpers and whines slipping from the canine’s maw, kept carefully shut while those big steel eyes close, waiting until the moment everything starts to still. He thinks if he tries to look around, the nausea will rear up, that discomfort in his stomach another quiet threat on the backburner of his mind. But soon enough, Nate’s sitting on the bed and Sunjata remains tucked up, unsure whether he wants to exude the energy to shift again.
A quick glance to the first aid kit has his ears pulling back again, flattening against his skull as he debates shifting back, instead choosing to remain in place for a little while longer. I can’t tell. He admits quietly, sadly. It fucking hurts everywhere. This is said with a bit more exhaustion, more heaviness, a quiet bitter anger that bubbles up and laces its way through him.
Hopefully Nate knows it’s not directed at him, but rather directed at the vision and himself getting tripped up on it.
But he’s along for the ride, quiet whimpers and whines slipping from the canine’s maw, kept carefully shut while those big steel eyes close, waiting until the moment everything starts to still. He thinks if he tries to look around, the nausea will rear up, that discomfort in his stomach another quiet threat on the backburner of his mind. But soon enough, Nate’s sitting on the bed and Sunjata remains tucked up, unsure whether he wants to exude the energy to shift again.
A quick glance to the first aid kit has his ears pulling back again, flattening against his skull as he debates shifting back, instead choosing to remain in place for a little while longer. I can’t tell. He admits quietly, sadly. It fucking hurts everywhere. This is said with a bit more exhaustion, more heaviness, a quiet bitter anger that bubbles up and laces its way through him.
Hopefully Nate knows it’s not directed at him, but rather directed at the vision and himself getting tripped up on it.
// travelling so far to get there, all just to be here again
all just to see what they saw back then //
all just to see what they saw back then //
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.
