// 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 //
“Ah but they wouldn’t be secrets if everyone knew them.” He adds, focusing a bit further on the way his talon glides against her pale skin – his own skin’s scarred and bronze in comparison. But she reaches up, takes his hand, guides that talon against her lips, the steel of his eyes smoldering, narrowing slightly as his wings ruffle with another breezy wind. But his focus is entirely on her now, not on keeping his shift under control, not on keeping his wings pulled tight and away, and they breeze toward her, curling around.
“I suppose I don’t.” He offers a bit honestly, a bit quietly, swallowing as she guides that talon down the hollow of her throat to where it connects to the neckline. His finger twitches slightly, tugging at it, before his gaze lifts to meet her face again – a quiet snort leaving him as his hand withdraws and she’s pressing all of herself against him. His hands lower, meeting her skin where the talons of his one hand press against the small of her back, supporting her yet again. The other one, shifting into talons as well, slips up into her dark hair, the claws tapping idly against her skin.
It isn’t until she speaks again, of his moniker, that he remembers what it is he wants to say. So he angles down a bit, tilts his chin down as the horns atop his head point directly at the sky, making it easier for her to try and reach him, leaning in with a brief smirk that simply presses himself against her more. “Because of many reasons.” He murmurs, a low purr, blinking again as his gaze shifts to the slit pupils again and he peers at her. “I’m powerful. I’m moody. I can be overwhelming and unpredictable.” This is said with the low hum of that same purr, though his lips quirk against the scar spanning half his face. “It was my moniker in Korofi too, where I'm from, for the very same reason.”
“I suppose I don’t.” He offers a bit honestly, a bit quietly, swallowing as she guides that talon down the hollow of her throat to where it connects to the neckline. His finger twitches slightly, tugging at it, before his gaze lifts to meet her face again – a quiet snort leaving him as his hand withdraws and she’s pressing all of herself against him. His hands lower, meeting her skin where the talons of his one hand press against the small of her back, supporting her yet again. The other one, shifting into talons as well, slips up into her dark hair, the claws tapping idly against her skin.
It isn’t until she speaks again, of his moniker, that he remembers what it is he wants to say. So he angles down a bit, tilts his chin down as the horns atop his head point directly at the sky, making it easier for her to try and reach him, leaning in with a brief smirk that simply presses himself against her more. “Because of many reasons.” He murmurs, a low purr, blinking again as his gaze shifts to the slit pupils again and he peers at her. “I’m powerful. I’m moody. I can be overwhelming and unpredictable.” This is said with the low hum of that same purr, though his lips quirk against the scar spanning half his face. “It was my moniker in Korofi too, where I'm from, for the very same reason.”
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.
