NATE
The Flood isn't his preferred nickname, but it's better than most other things Sunjata could be called by others, by the public. I think Sunny suits you better. It was his though, wasn't it? Not a nickname just anyone was allowed to use. What did Jigano call you? Nate had met the Sage once, thought him a touch condescending, but ultimately harmless.
We were going to. Are going to. The ceremony they'd had is fresher in his mind, but that doesn't mean it's necessarily what he wants to remember, not when they have the option for something else, something not shrouded in a haze of illness. Past laid plans aren't going to stop his teasing though, his grin still edged with amusement. But now we have to. And I want to be courted, sonskyn. A trill of song chimes through the bond, following the notes the attuned's hand taps out.
The edge of amusement in his grin fades slightly, practicality shoving everything else aside. Nate can feel the pooling steel on him, even if he can't bring himself to meet it quite yet, moving the cup away when Sunjata finishes drinking, and setting it to the side again, out of the way. A soft noise leaves him, a hum, a rumble of thought, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips.
What else were firsts Sunjata has taken? That requires a lot more explanation, a lot more delving into painful memories and things that made parts of Nate ache, despite his best efforts to ignore them. Fingers trace along his chest, then up, a stuttered breath pulled in between lips that don't need it as the soft touch moves along his cheek, and the very edge of the scar across his face. It's a different kind of numb there, the touch fighting through a buzz of static. Nate's gaze lifts, finding the adoring steel, and he melts, tilting his head to press his lips against Sunjata's wrist. I'd never said I love you and meant it to anyone else before.
We were going to. Are going to. The ceremony they'd had is fresher in his mind, but that doesn't mean it's necessarily what he wants to remember, not when they have the option for something else, something not shrouded in a haze of illness. Past laid plans aren't going to stop his teasing though, his grin still edged with amusement. But now we have to. And I want to be courted, sonskyn. A trill of song chimes through the bond, following the notes the attuned's hand taps out.
The edge of amusement in his grin fades slightly, practicality shoving everything else aside. Nate can feel the pooling steel on him, even if he can't bring himself to meet it quite yet, moving the cup away when Sunjata finishes drinking, and setting it to the side again, out of the way. A soft noise leaves him, a hum, a rumble of thought, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips.
What else were firsts Sunjata has taken? That requires a lot more explanation, a lot more delving into painful memories and things that made parts of Nate ache, despite his best efforts to ignore them. Fingers trace along his chest, then up, a stuttered breath pulled in between lips that don't need it as the soft touch moves along his cheek, and the very edge of the scar across his face. It's a different kind of numb there, the touch fighting through a buzz of static. Nate's gaze lifts, finding the adoring steel, and he melts, tilting his head to press his lips against Sunjata's wrist. I'd never said I love you and meant it to anyone else before.
Deep down, it hurts to know
How bad I wanna call it quits
How bad I wanna call it quits
