I like to be here when I can

NATE

The walk home has never felt so long. Nate has never been so aware of every step, every uneven patch of ground. It's all he can do to keep steady, to be something strong for Sunjata to cling to. He somehow even manages to talk the entire time they walk, nonsense stories about his long days in Halo, the Climb. The disappointment of not being able to fully complete the tasks he'd set out to do. Stories about benign fuck ups from his youth. Whatever came to mind without thought.

Despite how long it took, Nate seemed surprised as they crossed the threshold of their property, his hand searching through his pockets first, then through Sunjata's to find the key. There is a part of him that pauses, though he knows he shouldn't, to lock the door behind him, checking it once, twice, before focusing once more on the interior of the house, dim starlight growing brighter as Pemota makes her way through the halls to lead them deeper inside, upstairs and to the bedroom.

Haai already waits in their room, on the bed as if she's waiting to receive her bonded, waiting to take over for Nate. I'll be right back. He promises easily, unwillingly leaving his husband alone with their companions, wreathed in starlight that almost makes the bruising look better. He makes as much noise as he can, moving through the house. The clatter of a box being set down on the counter, of cupboards opening and things being moved around. There is only a single beat of silence, a beat where Nate stops to stare out the window, at the endless expanse of the sea and the path that leads to their home, half expecting to see a procession of shadows creeping towards them.

Gods know that's how it felt.

The sound of quick feet thundering back up the stairs comes before long, a pitcher with some kind of iced juice clutched in one of the ascended's hands, and a basket with various cloths and bottles in the other, both set on the bedside table as he sits on the bed. A smile is spread across Nate's face like too cold butter on soft bread, but his hand is steady when it reaches out, brushing hair away from Sunjata's face just for the excuse to touch him. "How are you feeling sonskyn?"

Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits

// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //

It’s both a long walk home and a short one to Sunjata. The drugs begin to kick in and he’s so thankful for Nate’s arm around him, a steady person to lean upon when the trek to their home gets a bit bumpy, a bit uneven. But he becomes so suddenly focused on the walk and the trek that he becomes glued to the conversation that Nate offers, gentle squeezes here and there at the disappointments, at the fuck ups, so many things that he can relate to time and time again.

Finally, though, they manage to make it, Sunjata remaining still while his husband reaches into his pocket to find the key. And soon enough, they’re inside, Pemota’s light bringing warmth to Sunjata in the form of the starlight that swirls and melds with his own inked into his arms. He’s half tempted to reach up and touch the starlight, but refrains – instead, pulled along by Nate to the bedroom. Haai sits there, tail wagging as she takes up a decent majority of the bed, Sunjata’s gaze drawn to her immediately and the movement.

His husband says he’ll be right back and Sunjata’s already nodding along, moving to sit on the bed, an arm slipping around Haai and burying his fingers into her soft warm fur. Pemota’s there too, though, and Sunjata reaches up to tuck the starwhal in closer to him, to sit there on the bed with both the companions, letting their warmth and soft fur and blubber distract him from the sounds Nate makes from downstairs – even however hollow a sound it is.

He finds it doesn’t bother him, surprisingly. Still, it isn’t long before Nate’s back, before the Ascended would find his husband tucking the two companions close to him, a soft fur blanket draped around him simply for the touch. His gaze lifts to meet Nate’s as he comes to sit on the bed, steel eyes bright despite the dilation, lips parting to respond before he huffs out a sound as the tick of pain comes sparking through his jaw. I feel good. He chooses instead, blossoming warmth slipping across the bond to the Ascended. They’re really soft. He adds, meaning Haai and Pemota, but his gaze never leaves his lover.

The moonlight filters in, illuminating the room just enough that it reflects off of Nate’s pale face, Sunjata not quite noticing the smile on Nate’s face, the worry that settles within, and he reaches up to take the hand Nate had just ran his fingers through his hair, to run his fingers along the inside of Nate’s wrist. Wat het jy gebring, my maanlig? He hums through the bond, eyes focused with a bit more intensity.

SUNJATA

NATE

A sympathetic wince moves through Nate as he sees the automatic reaction, the slight shift of Sunajat's face as he goes to answer the way he would any other time. It's a mistake that's corrected immediately, the words in Nate's head surprisingly warm, considering the current of pain that must be moving through the attuned. Though, hadn't that been the point of the drugs, to make it easier to ignore, easier to move past? Good, I'm glad. The edges of his smile ease, grow just a touch more relaxed as Nate leans in closer to his husband, a thankful thought pressed towards Pemota as he does. They are. He agrees easily, before he pulls himself onto the bed more comfortably, leaning against Haai and sandwiching Pemota between them.

If he had more time, maybe Nate could find a reason for why Sunjata's fingers brushing against his wrist made his chest ache so much. His lips part in a quiet gasp, his response coming through the ring as well, despite the effort of his lips. Medisyne. En versnaperinge, en sap. Alles vir jou, sonskyn. There's a bright chirp in his own voice, warmth and steadiness that takes more than a little bit of effort to maintain. The more he encourages the mood though, the easier it will be for Sunjata to stay wrapped up in it.

Mismatched eyes take their time moving up Sunjata's body, glazing over a touch as they move along the dark bruising on their way to meet bright steel eyes, the intensity of them drawing a soft huff of laughter from Nate. Are you comfy here Sunny? Better to move early, before either of them get too settled. Not that moving at any point would be an issue, Nate more than willing to bend over backwards for his husband right now.

Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits

// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //

The companions are warm, soft, distracting for Sunjata, who draws his arm around Haai a bit tighter though the griffin doesn’t mind, huffing her approval and flexing her feathers. As Nate closes in, however, she shifts so her head rests on whatever part of Nate it can reach, almost encapsulating the four of them together as Pemota gets sandwiched between the two men.

But the Attuned is already reaching for Nate’s hand, his wrist, for rough calloused fingers to dance along softly yet inquisitively. The answer brings a brief glimmer of a smile to his gaze again, unable to form his jaw into anything else, though his lips do quirk a bit up at the thought. Dit is baie vriendelik van jou. He murmurs, fingers continuing their gentle strokes, idly, as he focuses on his husband. It feels like no time passes and yet it feels like it’s slow motion, the way that Nate takes his time to almost inspect him, all while Sunjata stays relatively still, watching, wondering if he can pick out what twitches in Nate’s face might tell him about how he looks.

He doesn’t think about it long though, not as their eyes meet and a huff leaves Nate. What? He asks at first, regarding the huff though it’s hard for him to tell if it comes immediately after it or after what the Ascended says. Even still, it registers a moment later, Sunjata’s head dipping slightly. Oh yes. I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here. As if for emphasis, his gaze drops to Haai, fingers tapping on Nate’s wrist to indicate him as well as the arm still lost somewhere within Haai’s fur, scratching there.

We had dogs growing up. Did you know that? Lots of them. Guard dogs. They were sweet as puppies but they trained them to be these… big mean things. His hand lifts from Haai’s fur to stroke at her ears. I always wanted one. But I wasn’t a handler so I didn’t get one. Father forbid it, as always, but Mother used to sneak me in and see the puppies when I was younger. There’s a shift of his tone now, something that sounds quite a bit more like Korofi, a bit more regal and noble, even if it’s as wistful.

SUNJATA

NATE

Haai’s head comes to rest on his knee, completing the circle of their little family, a hollow throbbing in Nate’s chest making his smile quake. Despite everything, the troubles they can’t seem to stay away from, he’s happy, so happy to be here. He manages to tame the rush of emotion he wants to send over when he answers, manages to hold back and keep from overwhelming Sunjata. Ek wil graag vir jou lekker wees. His tight hold on his emotions slips when he finally lifts his gaze to the dilated steel, his smile more than big enough for the both of them. Jy verdien dit.

What what? Uncertainty keeps Nate quiet, for the moment, waiting to see if Sunjata can sort himself out on his own, or if he needs help. Besides, before he even gets the chance to try to explain about his laugh, or repeat his words, the attuned is speaking, his words warming parts of Nate that only ever seem to warm for his husband now. You're so fucking sweet when you’re high, I should do it more often. Another soft huff of laughter leaves him, growing easier by the breath.

As much as some inner voice screamed at him to be professional, to be sensible, he can’t help but grin, easing just a tiny bit as his husband begins to flow along with the substances in his body, something in his mental voice shifting, just slightly. Nate isn’t sure what it is exactly, too preoccupied with the actual words to focus on the tone. I didn’t know that. But he could have guessed, and he knew where the tale ended up, even before it left Sunjata. My dad tried raising dogs for a bit too. But puppies, and me and Bart, ended up being too much for him.

A soft grin crosses Nate’s face as he pulls the attuned closer, as slowly as he can to try and keep from actually alerting Sunjata. Pemota squirms, pulling herself free and settling instead across their shoulders, her warmth and starlight even brighter now that she’s comfortable. Your mother sounds nice. Nate mocks mimics the haughty tone that’s crept into the other voice, now that he’s pinned it down. He knows it’s a dangerous thing to bring up, bright eyes locked on Sunjata’s face, looking for shadows or ripples, any sign that he needs to pull back.

Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits

// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //

Does he deserve it? He’s unsure. But there’s something about the brilliance of Nate’s smile, the way Pemota’s starlight and the moonlight filtering in glints off the pale grin, off the fangs that settles Sunjata inside just enough. It quirks the corners of his own up, an easier smile while his jaw doesn’t have to move or strain. However, the Attuned is at a loss as to what to say, so instead he focuses on the sparkle of confusion, of the what for the laughter, before he forgets about it. That is, until Nate’s speaking again and Sunjata’s brows wiggle a bit as they inch closer to one another. Am I? He asks.

Perhaps it’s just all the things he’s always wanted to say, held back by a tongue that’d been reprimanded far too many times to truly speak how he feels. Perhaps the drugs just pull that veil away for the world to see, and perhaps that’s why it’s so easy with Nate – because he wants to tell him everything, even the bad parts, because he knows Nate would still love him anyway.

He dives deep into the story of the dogs, however, hand scratching at Haai’s ears, slowly edging closer to Nate without realizing it, close enough that he can rest his head on Nate’s shoulder, nestled in close as he can without pain. I can imagine. He murmurs in regards to Nate’s father raising puppies and two boys. They had separate trainers, handlers, everything needed to protect the manor. As for his mother, though, steel gaze flits up to meet Nate’s face, the hand at his husband’s wrist shifting to run along his tattooed arm.

It takes him a moment to think of how to answer the comment, no shadows hidden in steal, no darkness glimmering over his face. She and Saar were the best parts. He admits, brows knitting together again as he thinks about it. Mother had a garden. It was the only place she’d go where Father wouldn’t go. His fingers continue their idle touch and strokes along Nate’s arm. It was this… Large greenhouse. She could grow anything. I spent a lot of time there when I was young. It was like… Her little gift for me after the Chamber visits. Isolation without actually being isolated. He murmurs thoughtfully, though it ends a bit bitterly. The Attuned bond is wide open, for Nate to feel what he feels, and as he mentions the greenhouse it’s bright and vibrant, a happy sensation, that sours at the mention of the chamber room, one that spikes a moment of bitterness.

If he could shake his head, he would, but he instead focuses on his husband – the anchor for him as he gets swept away. She grew the bluest hyacinths.

SUNJATA

NATE

There’s something so earnest about the quirk of Sunjata’s lips, the pinch of his brows, that makes Nate break into soft laughter all over again. Fingers brush through short curls, the ascended taking a moment to simply appreciate the other man; his strong features, his warmth, the way he’s still captivating even with half his face swollen and discoloured. You are.

No matter how loosened the attuned’s tongue has grown, Nate is still stone sober, still stunted in the little ways that seem to matter most in moments like this. He wishes he could be blunt and honest about it, but settles instead for his arms tightening, and the silent emotions that drip through the leaky faucet bond between them.

Nate’s shoulder drops, sloping into a more comfortable headrest automatically. A hand drops to join Sunjata’s, all wrapped up in Haai’s fur, their fingers bumping often enough that has to be intentional. He treated us the same, so I don’t really know what his problem was. Despite his best attempts, it’s harder to mask the bitterness in the joke through the ring than  it is out loud. Or perhaps Nate simply has less practice with it. He allows himself a single moment of shame, his eyes breaking contact with Sunjata’s for a moment to focus instead on the sheets, only rising when the attuned’s begins to speak of his mother. It’s rare to hear the good parts, but it’s a moment Nate tries to pay special attention to.

If nothing else, he’s avoided triggering a trap of bad memories and trauma. Instead, there is a simple warmth, growing more complicated the more Sunjata reveals. A garden sounds nice. Did you help her in it? Perhaps it’s cruel, but a kind manipulation, one meant to steer around the potential bad with as wide a berth as possible, doesn’t really feel like anything worse than a kindness.

Nate tries to mirror the vibrant feelings, surprised that there are even moments to inspire such feelings in Sunjata’s past. It feels hypocritical to be surprised though, his childhood had not been as bad as the other man’s, but it had still been bad, and he had still had shining memories. It sounds like she tried to keep an eye on you. The offered words are a touch riff, the subject barbing particularly close to Nate’s own hang ups and resentments, things he tries to not wallow in when there is such a raw and open connection between them.

The Chamber is something that sticks out immediately, not only for the sudden drop when it’s mentioned. It’s not the time to push, might not ever be. Might be one of those wait until Sunjata himself brings it up subjects, no matte this terrible morbid curiosity. Fingers shift over his arm, the ascended shivering reflexively in response to the whisper soft touches.

Theo eyes meet again, and Nate’s hand brushes short hair away from his husbands forehead again, using the gesture as an excuse to simply touch, to simply be close. Ignoring the fact that they are well past needing excuses. ”What else did she grow?” It’s half genuine curiosity, half to keep Sunjata focused on something gentle, something he can talk about easily.

Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits

// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //

His husband always flatters him, in ways Sunjata doesn’t know what to do with other than settle more comfortably against him, to file them away for later. But it doesn’t stop the warmth from blossoming along the bond to Nate, a nestling closer as he lets the high deepen, as Nate’s fingers find Haai’s fur too and bumps into the Attuned’s occasionally. He focuses instead on the words that slip from Nate, a bluntness to the words that both shocks and doesn’t shock him. He doesn’t know what to say as Nate looks away, but he does know that he can slip his hand a bit closer in Haai’s fur, to tangle his fingers into Nate’s own, a beam of support in the moment.

He knows what that’s like to an extent. He also knows that Nate shouldn’t be ashamed of it. Once Sunjata had held shame for the things that happened to him but in this moment it swiftly switches to anger, the realization that it had been wrong and there wasn’t anything he could do about it other than try to be better. So he chooses that instead. That brimming frustration that lasts only as long as he dwells on it, swiftly switching gears to talk of his mother.

Sometimes. He murmurs through the bond. Remember… When you told me that your father didn’t let you cook? It was like that with the gardening. A moment of pause while he considers Nate’s next words, lets the pit of his stomach almost yawn open as he feels it drop, the remembrance of what she’d gone through to protect him. She cared for me too much. He murmurs, eyes focusing on the sheets, on the starlight that flickers through the air. He takes a sharp inhale from his nose, brows knitting together. His voice almost takes on something unlike him, something decidedly much like his father in the gruff tones mentally, as if he’s projecting the memory that comes to mind. Be seen and not heard. You will not get the attention others get. Your survival depends on you becoming the best you can be. The strongest you can be. Think of what it would be like for a Mother and Father to love a child, only to have them fail their swim test or their Trial. You do not wish that on your parents. He ducks his head a bit. If you survive, you will be rewarded.

His lips twitch a bit as he dwells on it, letting that pit grow a bit wider, letting himself drown in the sensation as he focuses on it like a light at the end of the tunnel. She spent time in the Chamber too. She knew what it was like. The only one who didn’t was Saar because of what she could bring the family regardless if she spoke out of turn. He informs Nate, letting his fingers drift along the Ascended’s arms for a distraction. And Nate brings up a good one, a different pillar of light to follow, one less heavy and less dark, and Sunjata latches onto it.

It takes him some time to think on it, to admit it. And when he does, he pulls away from being nestled into Nate so much, to try and shift them so that Sunjata can almost half bury himself in the blankets a bit more, finding the furs soft against his aching jaw. Anemones, lavender, we had bushes of rhododendrons. We had a small section that was just ours. When I got older right before my Trial, I got her some Bleeding Heart seeds.

SUNJATA

NATE

Warmth wraps between them, as much a blanket as the soft fuzzy wrapped around their actual bodies, and hopefully enough of a balm to soothe the rough patches of their conversation. Their fingers entwine together, Haai’s fur stuck between them, and Nate feels a part of him lift, his lips tugging into a smile. Frustration bubbles through next, something Nate tries to combat with warmth, comfort.

Theres no better time to start than right now. Nate points out with a faux cheer, his thumb rubbing against Sunjata’s hand. We have a nice big plot out there. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t actually sure he knew what a hyacinth was, but it was the thought that counted, right? The warmth between them drops to an abyssal cold, Nate left on the precipice alone, desperately trying to hold onto something, both his hands squeezing in a physical reaction that he can’t stop.

She cared too much. The words are an oxymoron. The words are a threat.

Not as much as the words echoing through Sunjata’s head, shared with him. A deep, stern voice that is not his husbands. That has Nate immediately on edge, his teeth clenching with an audible click to stop the ugly sneer spreading across his face. They match an image in his head, a fraction of a memory that isn’t his own, a ghost of a vision. Nate can’t help himself from tugging Sunjata closer, from wrapping the blanket tighter around them. He’s tripped, fallen into a spiral that isn’t his own, but that’s so familiar it aches.

An audible growl leaves him as the chamber comes up again, the horrors his mind concocts pushing him past words, if only for a moment. What comfort can he offer, what can he say, except you’re past that now, except you’re safe with me? He ends up offering a rope, sinking down deep enough into that abyss to offer out his hand and drag Sunjata back up with him, and it works.

I know bleeding hearts. He sounds just a touch too excited, but he’s not fluent in flowers like some, can’t to bring to mind any of the blooms his husband lifts except lavender, and only because of a candle his mother had set out in a sad attempt to brighten a room. My nonna had a huge bush of them in her front yard. There was always bugs in it. He laughs, the memory of pink flowers, a brilliant blue sky, and a house with worn paint behind it. It’s a roller coaster, coming back to this high, but in lieu of an artificial ease Nate simply tries to flow with things as best as he can.

Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits

// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //

I can’t grow anything. He murmurs back, the cheer Nate offers cut down quickly in lieu of it. But he cuts himself short from adding anything else as Nate responds with the big plot, his mind quickly and partially snapping to it. What would he even grow? What would even thrive in Torchline’s climate? And better yet, what would survive? It almost begins to feel like a livewire tap to how he’s feeling right now, how this begins to sway.

And he gives in, sending his father’s voice over to Nate, shying away from it all the same – reduced to nothing by just a deep, rumbling voice full of command and strength and disappointment. Nate wraps the blanket closer, Sunjata going willingly wherever his husband pulls him, however close they are. He almost forgets about his aching jaw with the feeling of the yawning pit within him.

He hears a growl as he mentions the chamber again, enough that his steel gaze flickers up and scans the edge of Nate’s face. A beacon through the dark granted in the form of better thoughts, of better memories, of pushing aside thoughts of darkness and a horrible upbringing in favor for something warmer, if not still somewhat painful.

If it weren’t for Nate’s excitement, he might have remained in his stupor, but he clings to his anchor in the storm – already the sensations through the bond are lighter, like a breath heaved and released. You do? He asks, shifting a bit so that he can rest his head on Nate’s shoulder again, hands intertwined while he focuses on the rope Nate’s given him, to pull him out of it.

The laughter, such a small tidbit of information that seems so minute in the moment, surprises him when he ducks his head and hums a quiet laugh in response. He’d forgotten of the bugs that used the bushes as their hideouts. He’d forgotten that he could see their pink and purple blooms from his window when the clouds lifted. He’d forgotten the times when his mother would press a small bleeding heart, left under the door in a letter for him when he refused to leave his room those following months after his Trial.

His mind seems to filter through all of these things in what feels like a thousand miles an hour, so much so that the next words that leave his lips have no connection with everything else he’s said. He hopes Nate understands anyway. Saar and I used to sneak out before I got stationed. When I got better she’d slip us out to go to the beach.

SUNJATA

NATE

Their steady boat begins to rock, all the preparation in the world unable to actually stop the storm from crashing over them. Nate can feel every response he wants to make, can feel himself tensing, a paranoid shiver racing up his spine, as the deep voice begins to claw into his own head, as its met by an echo, a breath, a suggestion of a ghost that he refuses to face himself. So he focuses instead on beating down Sunjata's ghosts, on saving them from this twisting whirlpool of darkness.

There are concrete things to focus on, instead of the deep, familiar dark that echoes between them. A blanket, warm, still soft from a lack of use, from a newness they haven't been home enough to wear down. Haai, heavy and soft and present, in the same way Pemota and her starlight is. And their hands, still tightly entwined, no matter how Nate moves them.

Steel eyes, blown wide by fear and drugs and gods only know what else find his, and suddenly Nate is stuck, still, distracted utterly by this silent connection. He leans in, pressing their foreheads together, but his gaze doesn't waver. He doesn't even blink, unwilling to sever this in any way. I do. And just like that, the dam is broken, light flowing between them again, soft memories passed out, more bubbling up, now that they're on his mind. A sharp whipcrack of a voice, in a language he only barely remembers, shouting through trees; and the warm smell of baking, drifting through a window above the bleeding hearts bush.

It's nice, having these things come up. It's nicer to share them.

Going with the flow means leaning in when Sunjata speaks, the path to the words utterly inscrutable, but the warmth in them promising enough that Nate all but leaps on them. That sounds nice. All the beaches around where I lived were... well, gross. He laughs again, easier now that they're past the crisis. Past that crisis. I still loved it. We went every year. He leans back finally, lips brushing against Sunjata's nose while he shifts them into a more horizontal position. What were the beaches there like?

Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits

// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //

There are the ghosts of his past beating against the door, and yet Sunjata finds the rope to pull him out of their clutches – pressing his forehead against Nate’s when the Ascended presses his in – his own eyes harboring shadows as he meets a blue and steel one, latching on as if his husband is his guide out of the dark. And he is. With the sensation of a sharp voice in a language he doesn’t know, trees he only somewhat recognizes, old paint on a  window above one of those very same bushes.

He holds onto those thoughts, keeping them close like someone given a treasured gift that must be protected at all costs, focusing on the next lighter topic that arrives. The ocean. As if in response, his fingers run along Nate’s skin again, dragging slower along tattoos and scars. Why were they gross? He asks instead, waiting for another piece of information to latch onto, while he tries to figure out how to explain his own.

Lips brush against his nose and he nestles in, closing his eyes as the warmth of it spreads through him. Rocky but good. He murmurs. It was different from Torchline’s sands, the softness of them underfoot. The beaches of Korofi were sediment, mostly, pieces of rock and corals and shells of creatures made for a sharpness underfoot.

It’s not like it matters much anyway. Nobody went there. We had a private beach for the family, though we never went to it. Mother took Saar once and that’s when Saar started to take me, too. She’d always managed to keep an eye on him somehow, someway. So we’d go at night. I’m pretty sure that Father knew of it with all the cameras everywhere. But I was doing well in training and I had won the Trial. So maybe I got a bit more leeway after it. His eyes remain closed but his brows pinch together a bit. We used to steal food and snacks from the kitchen and make a bonfire out there. She’d talk about her suitors and how they planned to court her. We’d shit talk Mel’s father. I talked about training and how many times I got my ass kicked. His head tilts a bit, a slight hiss leaving him when he presses against his jaw too hard.

Then we’d fall asleep under the stars and wake up before dawn and sneak back in before the servants came knocking.

SUNJATA

NATE

The gears of conversation shift easily, Nate diving wholeheartedly into the new topic. Into thoughts of the ocean, clear and blue and freeing, instead of a deep dark prison. Public beaches are always gross. Broken glass and dead fish all over. And it always, Nate leans in, just to highlight his point, just to really drive it home, always rained. It wouldn’t be a vacation without it, after all.

Pemota squeezes out from between them, sick of being squished and wanting to drift up to her usual place above them, the shower of stars suddenly much brighter around them. Rocky but good. Nate repeats with a hum, pulling his husband closer to fill the gap his companion had left, a short whistle inviting Haai to shift closer as well. He can’t quite decide if what Sunjata describes is better than what he’d known. They’re not the same though, trips taken in very different circumstances.

Nate listens to Sunjata’s memories, a smile playing over his face as he does, always glad to hear the warmth in a cold, sharp upbringing. His eyes close as well, letting warmth deep into him, almost feeling like he could fall asleep at any moment, though he knows he can’t. That sounds nice, sonskyn. Being close with his sister, sneaking away for spare moments of happiness, and the thrill of getting away with it. Even if it was only because it was allowed. He has to laugh, out loud this time, instead of just in his head, at the thought of them sneaking food from the kitchen, at the normalcy of complaining about their lives.

It highlights the differences between them though, everything sounding familiar until it doesn’t. Courting her? Like... with flowers and shit? The hiss has Nate shifting, reacting to give the attuned some space, to open a bigger cushion for his jaw. One of his arms pulls away, Nate breaching the bubble of their blanket to slap at the tray he’d brought up, a drink poured and offered out to Sunjata.

Do you remember the night we fell asleep under the stars? Nate purrs, an easy smile on his face. With the turtles?

Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits

// and if i was the only thing you couldn't bear to lose,
i'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //

Oh. He murmurs, trying to imagine what it was like. The closest he can get is what Torchline’s beaches had looked like after LongNight – briefly, before his memories began to falter and shift to a blank blackness. As for rain, however, he finds that he leans in a bit when Nate does, pulling away when his husband does – distracted by the movement made. It always rained there too. He offers as if it’s some solace, that the beaches always harbored rain.

Distraction comes in the form of Pemota sneaking her way out, Sunjata’s gaze following the starlight as he explains what he’d done when they’d snuck out – a quirk of the edge of his lip when Nate laughs, a bouncing feeling of lightness overcoming the darkness through the bond before. But then he’s hissing lightly and Nate’s shifting, Sunjata’s attention brought to the motion, eyes opening to watch as the Ascended pours. Flowers, instruments, whatever. His voice seems almost distracted, as if he’s trying to remember what it was he wanted to say instead. I was taught how to play the piano for it. For courting that never came, not if he could help it.

The drink is poured and Sunjata reaches out, clutching it close to him as the next words filter through his mind in an easy purr – steel lifting to meet blue and steel. Yes. I showed you my cobra shift. He pauses as he leans in as Nate had done previously. And I tried very hard not to devour the sea turtles. He says it with a surprising amount of pride, settling back again and peering at the glass, before attempting to take a sip of it. Why?

SUNJATA