i believe it was a sin to do you in the way i did you in, i couldn't stop it coming from afar
i lost the keys to the getaway car. and every now and then i'm in this place
i lost the keys to the getaway car. and every now and then i'm in this place
She squeezes his hand but it’s numb in comparison to the sharp shooting pain that slips through his jaw after he tries to speak. It pounds and throbs against his skull like an ice pick over and over and over again. The confirmation he gives is through a sharp breath of air from his nose, relaxing despite her hold on his jaw. He pants against it, feeling the magic work to fix his ruined skin, to dull the swelling, but it curls and turns in a warped scar anyway – likely from the last two days at sea, from shifting into his whale shift and going from there.
But he doesn’t know how bad it is, he can barely see straight right now – dehydrated and in pain and starving. She works her healing and he listens, his breath still panting at the idea of it being two days. And what had happened to Nate? What about the crowd that had formed? What about the rest of it all?
He doesn’t have it in him to ask, and so he simply blinks at her, letting it sit over him, letting the realization cross his mind before his brows twitch together and tears form in his eyes, a burning of a different sort while she still works at his jaw. The tears slip down his face, shuddering his breaths, working against the pain in his lungs that’s at least manageable now, but he tries to give her some sense of understanding, through the tears and quiet tremble of his body.
But he doesn’t know how bad it is, he can barely see straight right now – dehydrated and in pain and starving. She works her healing and he listens, his breath still panting at the idea of it being two days. And what had happened to Nate? What about the crowd that had formed? What about the rest of it all?
He doesn’t have it in him to ask, and so he simply blinks at her, letting it sit over him, letting the realization cross his mind before his brows twitch together and tears form in his eyes, a burning of a different sort while she still works at his jaw. The tears slip down his face, shuddering his breaths, working against the pain in his lungs that’s at least manageable now, but he tries to give her some sense of understanding, through the tears and quiet tremble of his body.
it's hell living when i need your face. don't hide, don't hide, don't hide from me
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.
