From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
”Sure.” Nate answers like it’s the simplest concept in the world, and it is, in comparison to everything else right now, to the safe spots he has to linger in, just to keep hard won calm from slipping away again. ”We ran out in the streets to stop them, and bought whatever shitty treat we could with money we stole from other kids.” Another shaky peak of laughter leaves him, dying quicker this time.
Strangeness is skipped over easily, something Nate is immensely grateful for. There is no room for yet another rabbit hole, too much of him hollow already. His brief, teary moment is skipped as well, something he’s somehow even more grateful for, the feeling shared down the bond this time. Their eyes meet instead, something about it feeling far more profound than a strangely familiar song. And when he leans in, slowly, steadily, it feels like the beginning of something meaningful in an entirely different way. At least until Sunjata leans back, still close enough for their noses to brush, for everything but the colour of his husbands eyes to be soft and out of focus.
Less fun made him worried. with good reason, it seems, Sunjata’s explanation met with a grimace, a twist of something anxious trying to claw its way up Nate’s throat. The longer kiss is stiffer, the ascended’s face pinched with worry. He stands when they part again, giving his husband the room to shift, assuming that’s what was going to happen considering there was nothing he could see wrong, and, more obviously, the shirt that came off.
Nate isn’t even sure what to comment on first, a noise that’s as unsure as he feels squeaking out through his teeth. The feathers make him think of the macaw, though none of it is right, not the colours, not the placement, not the size. And the state of them makes him think this is far more than got tangled in the vines, though nothing embarrassing enough to lie about it like this quite makes sense. Try as he might to keep it to himself, ripples of the vaguely horrified surprise leak through the bond, before his soft, eloquent words. Holy shit you’re fucked up.
What even is this Sunny? Nate leans to the side with the still good wing, reaching out and running his fingers through long, stiff feathers. They were pretty, if nothing else, even the one that hung limp and useless. There’s a sense of awe that threatens to overwhelm him, just for a moment, as thoughts of divinity floated through Nate’s mind distantly. ”This isn’t something I’ve had to do before, you know.” Maybe his voice is a little too light, but it’s better than panic, Nate considering his options carefully before making a move. ”I think... it needs to be set, and bandaged. And then just left.”
i can still see your face looking back through the flames and i search it, was it worth it?
Nate’s recollection of the story of ice cream trucks sparks an easier smile to warm over Sunjata’s face. He tries to imagine it, a young Nate and his brother running out to buy ice cream from a truck of all things. And it works as a distraction, for a moment, until he’s pulling away with the comment of less fun. Nate departs his lap which is probably for the best, as the wings appear, feathered and tri colored, extra limbs that are right and not quite right all the same. He’s felt this before, with Aurelia, but he hadn’t known what it meant, what it was.
It looks bad, it has to, he knows this. He’s heard the echo every night since in the dark of the snap of the wing. There’s a spark of shooting pain sent down the bond in response to Nate’s squeak, though Sunjata tries to mask it through sheer stubbornness as he always had. His eyes open, peering the blue tinged wings, feeling Nate’s fingers run through the good wing that flexes its feathers while the other remains drooped, sad, broken. A winged horse. He explains, feeling for it again and the sensation of hooves come to mind, of wind and air, water and light.
“I know.” He murmurs softly, tucking the good wing in, turning his head to peer over his shoulder to look back at Nate, over the drooped wing. “I trust you.” He says softly, nudging through the bond to have Haai fetch some alcohol, sure he’d need it. “The jungles have these vines that can reach out and grab you, like they’re sentient but not. I was going through a spot to get to the sky again and thought it was bigger than it was.” A hasty yet hopefully believable explanation, Sunjata mentally preparing for Haai’s return with the alcohol and for the long process of Nate setting the wing. He’s sure it’ll take quite some time and quite a lot of agony.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke are you okay? should i go away?
No permission needed for power play!
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.
if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
Some part of Nate is still surprised, a spark of soft wonder flashing in him just long enough to shine through the bond, but it's snuffed by an exhaustion that he keeps a much tighter grip on. You get something new every week, don't you? Somehow, his voice is still light, his grin wide, even if it isn't exactly easy. He can joke, act like this doesn't take it's toll on him. Everything still fits in that bottle in his chest, ignoring the pressure, so he's fine.
Brows pinch and a bi-toned gaze follow the folding of the good wing, Nate trying to get a sense of where everything is supposed to go, how it's supposed to move. He doesn't have quite enough presence of mind to do much more than hum at the explanation; it sounds strange, but so is everywhere in this place. Torchline was strange, the fucking ocean glowed at night. "I haven't actually gone into the jungle yet." Nate says it more so he's saying something, though there's something disapproving in his tone anyway. Like he has any room at all to be judgemental about stupid decisions. Can you... lay down maybe? A mistake to let the instruction come silently, his own misgivings sinking into what are supposed to be calming words.
There's really no way to be all the way prepared for something like this, Nate knows, but he does snatch himself a few more moments by removing his belt, offering it down to his husband with a You're going to need to bite down on something. Where does he go from there though? "I... need you to move with me. It's going to be shitty, but... I'm going to put it back in place, and hold it there. I need you to fold it in like the other one. And I'll wrap it like that." Simple, right? Easy.
And just to make sure neither of them get the chance to think about it too much, he starts to move almost immediately, his hands steadier than they have any real right to be.
Despite his best intentions, Nate's mind drifts, for a moment, to how it feels like this is happening more and more often. There are still bruises from last time he'd patched Sunjata up, and it's all explainable, all understandable; even this is an accident. But none of the justification in the world really makes it easier to swallow, to shove down. There have been things sitting in the back of his throat for too long now, and he has to be careful to not choke.
i can still see your face looking back through the flames and i search it, was it worth it?
Unfortunately. Comes the quiet response, an attempt at an easy smile as well that seems a bit more strained, a bit more pained. It’s always him, despite how much he wished it wasn’t, how much he wished everything would just leave him alone. But here he is, broken again, for Nate to fix. How he hates that he is.
The good wing folds in tight, the other hanging limply as Sunjata listens to his husband, mulling over the thought of Nate heading into the jungles as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “There are a lot of macaws.” He replies with some ease, picking apart the good memory rather than the memories of his father’s boot on his neck, of the pained crack that echoed through the trees. So he pushes back past it, moving to stand as Nate questions if he could lay down. He doesn’t need to agree verbally, so he simply does, moving to a softer space on the floor – knowing just how painful and shitty this would be.
So he slides down, a huff of a sound leaving him as the wing bounces against his back as he lowers himself, the tri-toned appendage spread out over the floor halfway open and halfway not, as if he hasn’t put in the effort to try and tuck it in (he hasn’t). Luckily, Haai returns with a bottle, however, and moves to hand it to him before he manages to make it to the floor completely. He has no need for glasses, simply popping open the bottle and taking quite a generous gulp while the griffin moves to observe from the edge of the wall, and Sunjata fully lays himself along the floor.
His head lifts at the offer of a belt, and he swallows hard, because he knows what’s next and knows just how horrible it’ll be. So he places the belt between his teeth, already indenting the leather with the bite before anything’s even started, hoping the warmth and buzz of the alcohol will numb most of him from the pain it’ll cause. He knows it won’t, but he hopes it does regardless. Alright. He rumbles quietly, taking a sharp enough inhale that his nostrils flare, to slowly exhale. One… Two… Three? He hums to Nate’s mind, getting them on the same page, as he moves to grit against the pain, folding that tri-toned wing in slowly with Nate’s help to push it all the more into position. A growl of pain slips from him as he does it, but he manages it, if not for the shakiness of the joint and the suddenly glimmering sheen of sweat that appears along his shoulders and the bruise in between his shoulder blades.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke are you okay? should i go away?
No permission needed for power play!
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.
if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
”Slim meisie.” Nate praises Haai, a spark of warmth in his voice. He should stop Sunjata, should say something about the chances of him vomiting up whatever he drinks when he resets the wing, but it’s not something he can guarantee, and who is he to pry that tiny bit of relief from the other man? It does mark a shift though, from talking about it to actually doing it, Nate’s hands running through feathers to get ready to move the wing.
Everything is ready, and there’s no more moments to steal. He has to do this. Sunjata has to do this. Nate is incredibly grateful for the countdown in his head, steadying himself to it, his fingers twitching just before three, anticipating the moment. It’s slow, painfully, horribly slow, but they get there in the end, the wing folded in against Sunjata’s back.
Therein lies the flaw though. Nate hadn’t thought ahead to this part, not really, and doesn’t have anything to actually wrap it in place. A silent plea is sent out to Pemota, wherever it is she lurks in the house, but he has to stay put while he waits for her. Almost as slowly as he’d moved the wing, Nate sinks to his knees, one hand resting firmly in feathers while the other rubs soothing circles lightly over bruising. It’s the least he can do. At least until he remembers the bottle, and reaches out to lift it to his husbands lips, slopping a splash onto the floor.
”That could have been worse, right?” Nate is perfectly content to be silent, to be close, right up until Pemota drifts into the room, a roll of gauze impaled on her spiralling horn. There’s more than one stab mark in it from failed attempts, but that’s honestly the last thing on Nate’s mind as he accepts it. The little whale hovers close, circling Sunjata’s head like a halo, her calming light raining down on him as of it could help ease the pain.
i can still see your face looking back through the flames and i search it, was it worth it?
Nate’s praise to the griffin earns him an excited wag of her tail, iridescent feathers dancing with the movement before she settles – before Sunjata’s pain begins to outweigh her excitement, even if it’s something that Sunjata tries to latch onto. She doesn’t move any closer, however, simply staring at the two men as they try to reset a wing, her own tucked in tight against her back just as Sunjata attempts to do with the countdown on his own.
It is slow, it is painful, it sparks warmth and redness in his back as the muscles tense and shift, hard enough that when it’s finally, excruciatingly in place, it’s all Sunjata can do to try and relax but keep the wing in tight, thankful for Nate’s steady hands to keep it in place as his forehead drops to the cool floor, panting around the belt in between his teeth.
He can feel the Ascended sink down beside him while they wait – Sunjata not quite realizing why they’re waiting until after Pemota arrives and Sunjata’s head has lifted with the splash of alcohol on the floor, steel lifting to spy the bottle offered. He pulls the belt away, fighting against the roar of nausea as his muscles flex again, moving to try and help Nate with the bottle just a bit to try and take more of the edge off.
He swallows it down hard, his own breathing a bit more picked up, watching the starlight idly as Pemota tries to calm him, to quell him. And it works, his own starry tattoos shifting and adjusting in response to the starwhal’s own. I think they have been worse. He rumbles back to Nate – recalling the burn around this time last year, from the lava octopus. At least this wasn’t that bad. At least he could move after tucking the wings away again. I’m sorry. He offers after a moment of consideration, of watching the starlight through eyes that aren’t quite seeing the starlight, his good wing's feathers flaring once Nate begins to wrap the bad wing.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke are you okay? should i go away?
No permission needed for power play!
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.
if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
He hates this. Hates having to do it, hates that it’s necessary, hates the at he has to do it. But at the same time, it’s simple at least. If he strips the problem down, like at it from a purely logical place, it’s easy. It’s distracting. It’s... it’s his husband in an amount of pain he can’t even Omaha one anymore, and here he is thinking of it as a distraction. Something to keep his mind, his hands busy, and away from his own worries. How selfish.
Sunjata’s words are not the balm they’re supposed to be, Nate’s jaw tightening as he swallows, and sends a pulse of forced agreement down the bond. There has been worse. There’s been so much worse and this was already so bad and he has no idea how to parse that, no idea where to pin this on the scale of more fucked up than he’d wanted to deal with.
Another deep breath is pulled in through Nate’s nose, his hands slowing as silence stretches out, just a breath too long before the ascended responds. It’s okay. We got you fixed up. The pause stretches out his careful wrapping of the wing, adding unnecessary seconds to the healing, but at this point it’s such a minor addition, such a barely there hassle that he can’t spare much thought or regret to it.
I don’t know it it’ll heal when it’s uh... not out. Attunement added a whole extra layer of difficulty, a layer of something utterly unpredictable. Nate shifts, the wing wrapped as properly as he can manage, and lays down on the floor properly, beside his husband. Even he can tell that it’s not comfortable, but it’s close, and he moves even closer, once he gets the chance. One of his hands is never far from his husband, while the other fusses with the bottle, with pushing the belt away.
i can still see your face looking back through the flames and i search it, was it worth it?
If Sunjata had his choice, he might not have gotten lost in the jungles. He might have had more awareness to not take all those wrong turns, he might have been able to depart the jungles without running into his father. But thanks to lack of sleep despite his attempts to (thanks to the swapped out medicine that was slowly more and more fucking with him) he’s virtually at a loss for how he could prevent it.
Unless, of course, he just… Didn’t leave Torchline for a while. That seemed doable. He could simply stay here at home or the boxing ring unless absolutely necessary. Surely people would understand, right? He could have eyes on the Ascended shrine, he could have eyes and ears out to search for those in the Order should they appear… And then? Then he’d be safe, right? He wouldn’t have to constantly put Nate through all of this, right?
The wing trembles and Sunjata’s forehead is pressed against the cool floor again as Nate wraps the gauze around the wing again to bind it down, the other flexing and flinching with the sensation of it all. Until Nate’s hands slip away from the throbbing, set and bound wing, and Sunjata exhales a shaky breath of relief. You did. He agrees quietly. Nate had gotten him fixed up. Nate had done it all.
He’s lost track with how many times his husband has had to put up with him and the bullshit of everything. And he hates that too, that he can’t pay him back for any of it, even as his head tilts to spy him laying on the floor beside him, to tuck himself in close to the Attuned. I’ll leave it out as long as I can. He offers, because he doesn’t really know how long it’ll take either. He just knows that it would take time.
Again, better reason to stay inside, right?
He pushes himself up onto his elbow once he’s gathered himself enough, his free arm reaching out to pull Nate in closer, letting his good wing drape over the Ascended, aiming to press all his gratitude and thankfulness into the kiss he gives his husband. Give me a few moments and we can go to the bedroom. I won’t make you carry me this time. This is aimed with a bit of humor even if it sounds like it falls flat in his mind. He’s trying, at the very least.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke are you okay? should i go away?
No permission needed for power play!
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.
if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
Nate nods, not sure what other help he can offer. The wing is set, bound, tight but not too tight. Sunjata is shaky, aching he’s sure, and all Nate can offer in comfort is the closeness of a cool body. Good. You’ll be back to normal in no time, right? Somehow, he sounds far brighter, far more confident about that than he really feels, though that at least is an impulse he can stifle. Even that well developed mask feels too much like lying for Nate to want to show it off to Sunjata.
The ascended pulls in a deep breath as warm darkness enshrouds him, the cover of feathers different than the leathery dragon wing, but just as familiar. He presses into the kiss greedily, both arms moving to wrap around the attuned. It feels like it’s been so long since he didn’t need to be careful, too long since he could just squeeze Sunjata close and tight. I don’t mind carrying you. Nate tries to match the lightness of Sunjata’s tone, though he’s not actually replying to what it is his husbands said. His words are too sincere, too earnest, too heavy. Talking around what he wants to say is a skill so ingrained he does it automatically, even in the moments he wants to be direct. I like... being able to do it. The trust, the closeness.
Something tries to claw its way up his throat; a confession, or some errant emotion dragged up by the wrong association. There’s so much swimming in the punchbowl of his head, Nate leaning in to press their foreheads instead of their lips together. ”Sunny?” The nickname has to fight its was through the thickness of the ascendeds throat, barely making it out understandably.
A heavy, indescribable emotion rolls off Nate in waves, an oil slick of discomfort floating atop the feeling, hiding deeper, roiling monsters. He needs to keep a hold of himself, and it’s clear he’s trying, and failing. It’s like watching someone fall in slow motion, the end result unavoidable, no matter how long the actual fall stretches out.
i can still see your face looking back through the flames and i search it, was it worth it?
Here’s hoping. He manages, though his tone is optimistic. After a few moments, however, he’s nestling Nate in beneath him, putting his weight onto the Ascended – searching for his husbands lips with a kiss that hopefully bandaids the problem. And for a moment, it works, Nate’s arms tightening around him and Sunjata leaning in against his husband, playfully offering a lighthearted joke of being carried. This too, falls flat, for a second as Sunjata listens.
Nate doesn’t mind it, which is good. But the fact of Nate having to do it, isn’t good in Sunjata’s mind. Whether that’s right or wrong is hard to say, seeing as he won’t actually admit any of it. And so he simply nestles in close, listening for the next almost stumble of words, a quirk of a smile brought to Sunjata’s shaky, sweaty face. You’re strong. He hums lightly, his free hand moving to press his fingers against Nate’s side. And you aren’t exactly a stick. He murmurs mentally, letting the warmth of that shroud out the pain for a brief moment.
This, too, doesn’t last. Because their foreheads are pressed together and Sunjata’s curls fall into Nate’s raven ones, steel searching blurred steel and blue as his nickname is uttered, as it sounds like it’s forced, and Sunjata forgets about all of the pain, all of everything that’s previously gone wrong to focus on whatever this is. Brows pinch together and his hand lifts to tuck his arm under Nate, mentally trying to recoil from the discomfort that’s settled in his mind, coming off in roves from his husband that draws huge amounts of concern.
So he does the only thing he knows how to, the good wing flexes, blocks out the light and Sunjata doesn’t shift his eyes to see his husband better. No, he closes them instead, pressing his forehead against Nate’s – feeling the rise of the scar beneath his warm skin. “What’s wrong, my maanlig?” He murmurs, tries to poke and prod as gently as he can – trying to give Nate the space and the closeness required to try and get it out in the air.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke are you okay? should i go away?
No permission needed for power play!
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.
if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
Bandaids are better than nothing, and that Sunjata cares enough to try and press them on is more than enough for Nate. He wants to live in that comfort, wants to pretend that it’s their all the time, that they haven’t been put up against every rock and hard place in Caido, and then some. Nate tries to think of it as a break, even if it doesn’t feel like it.
There’s an irony in the way they’re barely talking, the way they circle around the separate carcasses of their actual meanings, too preoccupied with their self imposed expectations to approach them. The same kind of almost smile curls Nate’s lips, his head just barely tipping to the side. You know what I mean. He doesn’t even know what he means, not really. I like that you let me. Another safe, warm place, though this one feed more genuine, feels easier to live in, which only makes the shift that much worse, makes the fall that much longer when it comes.
Nate draws in a breath on reflex, like the very question hurts him somehow. With their foreheads together, Sunjata will feel his eyes flutter; the surprised, pained pinch of the ascendeds brow. Cold discomfort trickles down his spine, through the ring, so strong he almost wants to roll his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge it. ”Its uh..” Nate hesitates, swallows. ”You know I love you. I... think about you when I do anything, and...” This isn’t what he wants to say, not that he doesn’t mean it. ”And nothing I ever do is meant to... to hurt you.”
He’s a coward. He doesn’t want to put his troubles, his mistakes, his worries, on Sunjata. It wouldn’t be fair to him, not right now. There will be a better time. He’s a coward.
i can still see your face looking back through the flames and i search it, was it worth it?
He tries to bounce around it, because he knows he can’t form his words in a coherent way that would actually say what he wants to. Especially not like this, with the wing bound and the pain finally beginning to subside. So he aims for jokes and jests, playfulness that doesn’t exactly feel playful but is an attempt regardless. That’s a fair argument. He begins, pausing to press a kiss to Nate’s cheek. I’ll let you carry me whenever you want. Comes the easier words, the acceptance and admission to them. Sunjata doesn’t mind.
But things begin to drift south, quickly, so much so that Sunjata’s mentally recoiling from the sensation that Nate sends down the bond. He asks what’s wrong and it’s met with more of that cold awkwardness, cold discomfort, and Sunjata’s worry begins to grow. He has to fight to keep his eyes shut, to give Nate that quiet boon that he preferred when trying to talk about things. But it’s so hard for him to do so. The sensation drifts through the bond to him and static begins to drift down Sunjata’s spine – replacing the pain in his wing with the hollow drop of his stomach.
It grows more painful the more Nate speaks, but he keeps it together – his composure at least – the rest of him stills, his breaths slow and shallow. “I love you too.” He says quietly, confirming it even if he can’t keep the sudden worry from pinging down the bond toward Nate. He swallows hard. It feels like a break-up, though Sunjata’s never been on the receiving end of one. But the words? The words fall into that similar territory that has fear creeping into his heart.
What would he do without him? Was the broken wing the final straw? The last piece Nate could put him back together with before deciding it was too much? “Vertel my asseblief.” Comes his quiet request, the strain in his voice, incapable of keeping it the common tongue and simply needing to drift back to Korofi to make it easier.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke are you okay? should i go away?
No permission needed for power play!
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.
if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
”Good. Okay.” His voice is so calm, so casual. It doesn’t give away any of his sparking worry, though it begins to grow in Nate, fed by the feeling coming off Sunjata, by his own inability to cope. And even if it doesn’t taint his voice, the feeling does have his arms squeezing around his husband tighter, another shaky breath pulled in and he tries to pull shy jata closer while maintaining that cloaking darkness.
If Nate knew what thoughts exactly his words had inspired, he would be horrified. Ashamed. Maybe even enough to be properly truthful. But right now, like this, it feels like all he can do it try to mitigate it, try to soothe the wound he’d made, unintentionally or not. He’d meant every word, meant the fact that he didn’t mean to hurt the other man, especially not here.
The fervent shake of Nate’s head is immediate, even if it takes him a moment to find the words, to translate them to Korofi, wanting to offer the ease of it after the stress Hes causing. ”Nee, ek hanteer dit.” Forget saying too little, it would have been better to not say anything. To not stir up all of this worry and fear. And he doesn’t now how to lie and make this better, and he especially doesn’t know how to be honest. ”Dis... niks sleg nie.” Nothing that would end in anything bad for Sunjata, at least.
”Asseblief moet nie bekommerd wees nie.” Somehow, Nate keeps the edge of desperation from his voice, though he can’t stop it drifting between them, an uncomfortable edge pressing at the shared choke chain of worry. Please trust me. Don’t worry.
i can still see your face looking back through the flames and i search it, was it worth it?
Nate’s arms squeeze tighter around him and Sunjata’s confusion only grows. It’s different – the idea that if his husband were to break up with him, it wouldn’t begin with him pulling the Attuned tighter, by telling him that he was handling it, whatever that meant. He can’t help the pinch of his brows, in the way his head still rests against Nate’s, in the way he tries to shift slightly as the words continue, as that hollow pit in his stomach grows wider and deeper.
And perhaps it’s the pain that echoes through his bound and broken wing, but he exhales the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, shifting just so he can tuck his face into Nate’s neck, hiding them both away from one another, enshrouded in the darkness of the draped tricolored wing as Nate’s worry pours through him through the bond and almost chokes him up. Okay. He murmurs through the bond, shifting to try and drown out Nate’s worry and discomfort with his own confusion.
He presses a kiss to Nate’s neck with a quiet exhale of breath, settling in against his husband as if he feels fragile and small, when in reality the both of them are about as strong as cracked glass. “What is it? What are you handling?” He asks after a breath of air, a moment of trying to figure out how to word it, even if it doesn’t seem to come out as well as he thought it did.
no i don't mind the smoke, but your tears make me choke are you okay? should i go away?
No permission needed for power play!
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.
