// 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'd set fire to the wood, just so you wouldn't have to bury me too //
I think so too. The agreement is easy, Sunjata finding warmth in the way Nate says his nickname. And he latches on, even as the next comment should bring darkness upon their easy conversation. There’s a quirk of his lip, some amusement flickering down the bond toward Nate as he recalls it. He called me Safrin’s Assassin. It comes out almost like a joke — he’s never been called upon by Safrin for anything. If anything, he’d gone to her time and time again, offering and asking, but never being asked.
Distraction comes by means of wedding receptions and courting, all things that have blossoming warmth shooting through him again instead of pain. I have a little bit already. The gifts count. He rumbles, sounding positively smug in his accented mental voice, dripping with pleasantry. But I’ll need a piano to do it all the way. This second thought comes as a rush, a bit of surprise.
He knows that while he’s asked a lot of Nate to explain, he shouldn’t keep his eyes on him. But it’s so tough to do when Sunjata wants nothing more than to lean into every touch, to focus on Nate’s face so sharply he couldn’t ever forget what it looked like in this moment. And perhaps that’s why he reaches out, dragging warm fingers along collarbones and jawlines and cheekbones, along the briefest edge of a scar that despite the brutality of it, Sunjata finds just as beautiful the same.
The words surprise him, truly surprise him, as evidenced in the shock that crosses his face, in the way his fingers twitch and pause against the Ascended’s skin, with the kiss pressed softly to his wrist — the very same wrist Nate had his first bite on him. He wonders in the sluggish mind of his if it’s poetic, but he doesn’t dwell on it, not as the smile burns through his eyes, as he decides to say fuck it against the pain in his jaw, a distant thought in the face of this.
The hand at Nate’s cheek slips into dark, long and satin hair, hoping to keep Nate still enough that he can lean in and press a kiss where his fingers had just roamed previously. It’s soft and gentle, but he charges through, pressing a longer one to Nate’s lips however sloppy and pain inducing it is. It’s worth it, despite what the heavy exhale he gives says. I love you, too. He says, his mental voice alight and bright, as if he’s saying it with enough fervor to pray to the gods and have them hear it. So much that it hurts. Whether it’s because of his jaw or the depth of how much he does, Sunjata doesn’t elaborate. Not yet, anyway.
Distraction comes by means of wedding receptions and courting, all things that have blossoming warmth shooting through him again instead of pain. I have a little bit already. The gifts count. He rumbles, sounding positively smug in his accented mental voice, dripping with pleasantry. But I’ll need a piano to do it all the way. This second thought comes as a rush, a bit of surprise.
He knows that while he’s asked a lot of Nate to explain, he shouldn’t keep his eyes on him. But it’s so tough to do when Sunjata wants nothing more than to lean into every touch, to focus on Nate’s face so sharply he couldn’t ever forget what it looked like in this moment. And perhaps that’s why he reaches out, dragging warm fingers along collarbones and jawlines and cheekbones, along the briefest edge of a scar that despite the brutality of it, Sunjata finds just as beautiful the same.
The words surprise him, truly surprise him, as evidenced in the shock that crosses his face, in the way his fingers twitch and pause against the Ascended’s skin, with the kiss pressed softly to his wrist — the very same wrist Nate had his first bite on him. He wonders in the sluggish mind of his if it’s poetic, but he doesn’t dwell on it, not as the smile burns through his eyes, as he decides to say fuck it against the pain in his jaw, a distant thought in the face of this.
The hand at Nate’s cheek slips into dark, long and satin hair, hoping to keep Nate still enough that he can lean in and press a kiss where his fingers had just roamed previously. It’s soft and gentle, but he charges through, pressing a longer one to Nate’s lips however sloppy and pain inducing it is. It’s worth it, despite what the heavy exhale he gives says. I love you, too. He says, his mental voice alight and bright, as if he’s saying it with enough fervor to pray to the gods and have them hear it. So much that it hurts. Whether it’s because of his jaw or the depth of how much he does, Sunjata doesn’t elaborate. Not yet, anyway.
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.
