// dance me through the panic 'til i'm gathered safely in
lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove //
lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove //
For a moment, the tether out of his thoughts is brought by cold feet, blinking and pulling his attention away from the window that slowly shrouds in a week long permanent darkness. There’s a few oil lamps in the room, dimly lit, preparing for when the darkness fully takes hold, and he watches the way it flickers across her face at her quiet tones. His hand reaches out to rest on her leg, to shift slightly so that it’s a bit more comfortable for him to sit this way.
But she’s shifting too, edging closer until the glass is sat on the nightstand and Sunjata’s taking a long sip from his own, not even feeling or focused on the burn down his throat. His wing adjusts to make room for her to slip in, his body turning toward her slightly so he can wrap an arm around her and pull her closer, using the wing as an extra added boon of warmth. “Wessex promised me she’d do everything she could to make sure he comes home.” He says with a quiet hum, tilting his head so that his stubbled chin can settle on her head.
“I’m glad you’re here, though. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it without him.” It was obvious that Sunjata, dubbed the Flood, was not one for his own self branded stability. He needed to have someone to tether himself to, someone to withstand the storms that came and went.
But she’s shifting too, edging closer until the glass is sat on the nightstand and Sunjata’s taking a long sip from his own, not even feeling or focused on the burn down his throat. His wing adjusts to make room for her to slip in, his body turning toward her slightly so he can wrap an arm around her and pull her closer, using the wing as an extra added boon of warmth. “Wessex promised me she’d do everything she could to make sure he comes home.” He says with a quiet hum, tilting his head so that his stubbled chin can settle on her head.
“I’m glad you’re here, though. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it without him.” It was obvious that Sunjata, dubbed the Flood, was not one for his own self branded stability. He needed to have someone to tether himself to, someone to withstand the storms that came and went.
dance me to the end of love
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.
