i will march down an empty street like a ship into the storm, no surrender, no retreat
i will tear down every wall, just to keep you warm, just to bring you home
i will tear down every wall, just to keep you warm, just to bring you home
“The gifts aren’t required.” Sunjata manages to offer to Neos before Aurelia’s piling in, and the rest of the participants. Eventually, however, new faces arrive and Sunjata loosens his grip on his husband briefly, though the arm still remains slipped around him. There’s a quiet oof that leaves him at the bottle that’s thrust into his chest – a little low, to be honest. “Had to get things in order. You know how that goes.” He replies easily to Zeph, a rogue grin crossing his face that only grows as he shakes his head – the idea of it being pompus causing a snort to leave him. “Sort of the point, you know.” A wink is shot the liaison’s way. Still, he takes the bottle, having little to no time to peer at it before Vai’s there – offering a kiss to his cheek that he stoops for.
“If it’s anything like the clinic’s then I’m sure I won’t remember.” He flashes an easier grin, watching her slip over toward Nate – peering for a second at the empty bowls, brows drawn in confusion. Of course, it can’t last – his attention lingering on his husband, the smile remaining on his face, until the voice curls and grates against his bones, until he’s freezing and tense and taught and it all fades away – gaze snapping to the unassuming man.
A bit different looking this time from last time, but even still Sunjata’s not sure if he’s breathing.
It feels mocking, to peer at this man and see someone else, someone that’s not there, to hear the voice of his father and know, because that stupid dragon gift – wings spread wide. A mockery – because one of those wings was bound and broken, hidden away within him only to be pulled out for the times he allows it to heal. Even the marble is a mockery, a memory of marble stained in pools of blood of their home. His gaze narrows, locks on the man, arm tightening around Nate as a stillness overcomes him.
But again, he doubts anyone would believe him. They don’t even look alike in this instance. He wouldn’t either, the description he’d given Jack a failure here. That isn’t as shocking, however, as the mention of Zeph and the working relationship implied – a pit yawning in his stomach as he shoots a quick glance toward Zeph with that same narrowed gaze before it snaps back to his father.
He sets the bottle down to tentatively reach out to grab the dragon statue, unsure whether or not he wished to throw it into the ocean at the end of the night. As it was, right now, he knows his father better than most, knows he wouldn’t make a scene here of all places. No, he’d need hard proof before he could do anything, even if it killed him inside. “Thank you.” Is all he manages to say, fingers tight around the marble statue, not even looking at it as he watches his father before him as if he were a cross between a deer in the headlights and a predator waiting to strike.
“If it’s anything like the clinic’s then I’m sure I won’t remember.” He flashes an easier grin, watching her slip over toward Nate – peering for a second at the empty bowls, brows drawn in confusion. Of course, it can’t last – his attention lingering on his husband, the smile remaining on his face, until the voice curls and grates against his bones, until he’s freezing and tense and taught and it all fades away – gaze snapping to the unassuming man.
A bit different looking this time from last time, but even still Sunjata’s not sure if he’s breathing.
It feels mocking, to peer at this man and see someone else, someone that’s not there, to hear the voice of his father and know, because that stupid dragon gift – wings spread wide. A mockery – because one of those wings was bound and broken, hidden away within him only to be pulled out for the times he allows it to heal. Even the marble is a mockery, a memory of marble stained in pools of blood of their home. His gaze narrows, locks on the man, arm tightening around Nate as a stillness overcomes him.
But again, he doubts anyone would believe him. They don’t even look alike in this instance. He wouldn’t either, the description he’d given Jack a failure here. That isn’t as shocking, however, as the mention of Zeph and the working relationship implied – a pit yawning in his stomach as he shoots a quick glance toward Zeph with that same narrowed gaze before it snaps back to his father.
He sets the bottle down to tentatively reach out to grab the dragon statue, unsure whether or not he wished to throw it into the ocean at the end of the night. As it was, right now, he knows his father better than most, knows he wouldn’t make a scene here of all places. No, he’d need hard proof before he could do anything, even if it killed him inside. “Thank you.” Is all he manages to say, fingers tight around the marble statue, not even looking at it as he watches his father before him as if he were a cross between a deer in the headlights and a predator waiting to strike.
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.
