may we dance until it rains, may we drink to hide our shame. we're all pretty when we die
Gods he’s sore. His muscles bark and groan when he and Nate finally call it a night. It couldn’t have come sooner, though, the thought of simply walking home draped as a cobra around Nate’s neck an opportunity that he keeps in mind when he finally pulls himself up off the couch of the Slagveld. Somewhere in between a playful jest of ‘carry me’ before he actually enacts his idea, shifting into that black and bronze cobra and winding himself around Nate’s neck and shoulders, head tucked along his husband‘s neck to peer out from under wild curls.
This way he won’t have to move, and that’s truly the goal at the end of the day.
They slip out from the Slagveld to find a throng of people, voices calling out and food and snacks abound, surprise overtaking him for how late it was and whatever this was. When did this get here? He sends to Nate, tucking in a bit closer and poking his forked tongue out at it, his curiosity getting the best of him for the table in the middle of it all, hidden away by cloth. What do you suppose are under the cloth? He tacks on at the end with a mischievousness sent over toward his husband.
This way he won’t have to move, and that’s truly the goal at the end of the day.
They slip out from the Slagveld to find a throng of people, voices calling out and food and snacks abound, surprise overtaking him for how late it was and whatever this was. When did this get here? He sends to Nate, tucking in a bit closer and poking his forked tongue out at it, his curiosity getting the best of him for the table in the middle of it all, hidden away by cloth. What do you suppose are under the cloth? He tacks on at the end with a mischievousness sent over toward his husband.
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.
