don't you know i'm no good for you?
Nate’s a barbed, sharp wire beside him, tense and taut, and Sunjata can’t help but to relish in it – even if only a little bit. It helps the pain in his jaw, the bruising that splotches across his neck and up from his face. His own mood isn’t much better, paired only by the fact that he hates Halo, hates the cold, hates everything about this place and this festival.
His steel gaze flickers along the lanterns Nate’s brought, mind registering what he sends over, hearing the distraction in the words. But he doesn’t ask, focusing instead on his own, nostrils flaring in an attempt to keep from clenching his jaw. Gods, wouldn’t that have been a vacation. He hums, managing to catch his husband’s gaze, a glimmer of amusement flickering within them.
Still, he settles back, watching and waiting, an arm wrapped around Nate’s shoulders, practically glued at the hip when Ludo appears – a bristling of interlocking plates running up his neck and stopping just below his jaw. He bristles more when the lanterns begin to change, on edge and attentive in the ways a protective dragon might be for his hoard.
One by one they come, he spies Ezra and Edrei in the wings. His breath hitches, searching and searching, growing still beside Nate in such a way that’s hard to tell whether or not it’s from hope or from dread. He remains, watching, blinking only when he needs to, when suddenly he spies a familiar pair, one that has the sensations sent to Nate through the bond full of relief and horror, a mixed mash of sorrow, regret, and gratitude that spreads and fractures through him.
Suddenly, the Flood forgets of the pain in his jaw, he forgets about how much he hates Halo and the snow and the cold. Suddenly, he’s stepping forward and releasing his arm from around Nate, still reaching for the Ascended’s hand or arm, wherever to try and drag him toward them with him. “Peter…? Adam?” He manages through a swift hiss of pain, pushing it away, throat tightening up even more with the plating wrapped around his neck. “Gods.” A mumble under his breath, to himself mostly, until he’s standing before them – steel gaze flickering between the two men, pausing in what he wants to do.
Then deciding quite swiftly fuck it, surging forward to pull Peter into a hug. A shaky, trembling, hug.
His steel gaze flickers along the lanterns Nate’s brought, mind registering what he sends over, hearing the distraction in the words. But he doesn’t ask, focusing instead on his own, nostrils flaring in an attempt to keep from clenching his jaw. Gods, wouldn’t that have been a vacation. He hums, managing to catch his husband’s gaze, a glimmer of amusement flickering within them.
Still, he settles back, watching and waiting, an arm wrapped around Nate’s shoulders, practically glued at the hip when Ludo appears – a bristling of interlocking plates running up his neck and stopping just below his jaw. He bristles more when the lanterns begin to change, on edge and attentive in the ways a protective dragon might be for his hoard.
One by one they come, he spies Ezra and Edrei in the wings. His breath hitches, searching and searching, growing still beside Nate in such a way that’s hard to tell whether or not it’s from hope or from dread. He remains, watching, blinking only when he needs to, when suddenly he spies a familiar pair, one that has the sensations sent to Nate through the bond full of relief and horror, a mixed mash of sorrow, regret, and gratitude that spreads and fractures through him.
Suddenly, the Flood forgets of the pain in his jaw, he forgets about how much he hates Halo and the snow and the cold. Suddenly, he’s stepping forward and releasing his arm from around Nate, still reaching for the Ascended’s hand or arm, wherever to try and drag him toward them with him. “Peter…? Adam?” He manages through a swift hiss of pain, pushing it away, throat tightening up even more with the plating wrapped around his neck. “Gods.” A mumble under his breath, to himself mostly, until he’s standing before them – steel gaze flickering between the two men, pausing in what he wants to do.
Then deciding quite swiftly fuck it, surging forward to pull Peter into a hug. A shaky, trembling, hug.
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
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.
