// seems like the whole damn world went and lost its mind & all my childhood heroes
have fallen off or died. fake tears, real living, fake tears, but the alcohol never lies //
have fallen off or died. fake tears, real living, fake tears, but the alcohol never lies //
He pulls away from her and she’s giving puppy dog eyes, pouting, offering up a jest of words that he can’t help but to snort to when he finally gets to his feet. “Mm well, nobody has exactly called me nice upon meeting me.” He retorts, raising a playful dark brow at her as she, too, stands, and has no trouble swanning over to him. She’s quite short in comparison to him, but given the size of the cathedral, he’s a bit hunched anyway.
But she closes in on the space between them and he doesn’t move, instead he’s intrigued to watch, to feel how she toys with his collar, how it drifts into his hair. From where she stands, the northern points of the compass tattoos on his neck point directly at her, and the starry Safrin tattoos on his arms shift an inch to match the stars above. She leans up to speak in his ear and his hand comes around to steady her, resting on her waist however briefly it is. And she wouldn’t know it, but the ear she speaks into holds another earring, a special one that makes it far easier to hear any whispers.
She draws back and the scar to the side of his face twists a bit with amusement, his steel gaze flickering with playfulness. He lets her go, his hand rising to run through his hair, to push it back out of his face before he’s regarding her again. “There’s always next time. You can inform me ahead of time.” He teases her back, his muscles barking in a bit of protest that’s replaced by the scaled armor of his dragon shift where it tries to support him more. He moves to step beside her, brushing close to her before he’s finally outside of the cathedral where he can draw back up to his full height. The dragon shift lets go a bit more, his hold on it growing less strong as it envelopes him again in the form of plates along his arms and neck, and he turns back to her as the wings expand from his back and horns slip from his skull, curling through dark hair.
“Would you like company on the way back to Haulani?”
But she closes in on the space between them and he doesn’t move, instead he’s intrigued to watch, to feel how she toys with his collar, how it drifts into his hair. From where she stands, the northern points of the compass tattoos on his neck point directly at her, and the starry Safrin tattoos on his arms shift an inch to match the stars above. She leans up to speak in his ear and his hand comes around to steady her, resting on her waist however briefly it is. And she wouldn’t know it, but the ear she speaks into holds another earring, a special one that makes it far easier to hear any whispers.
She draws back and the scar to the side of his face twists a bit with amusement, his steel gaze flickering with playfulness. He lets her go, his hand rising to run through his hair, to push it back out of his face before he’s regarding her again. “There’s always next time. You can inform me ahead of time.” He teases her back, his muscles barking in a bit of protest that’s replaced by the scaled armor of his dragon shift where it tries to support him more. He moves to step beside her, brushing close to her before he’s finally outside of the cathedral where he can draw back up to his full height. The dragon shift lets go a bit more, his hold on it growing less strong as it envelopes him again in the form of plates along his arms and neck, and he turns back to her as the wings expand from his back and horns slip from his skull, curling through dark hair.
“Would you like company on the way back to Haulani?”
some princes don't become kings
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.
