don't you know i'm no good for you?
There’s a thin, silver line of hope among the rest of all of this as Sunjata holds his breath, as his hand parts from Nate’s despite the amount of internal hurt and struggle it causes. It doesn’t last long, the obviously from Nate is met with a small, amused smile from Sunjata among the emotions swirling in his gaze and through the bond. His hands rise, cupping Nate’s face, and when nothing happens it’s relief. Nate sags into his hands and clutches as his chest, pressing against the constellation in his skin with such a force it almost seems like he’s trying to push him away.
Sunjata knows better, though. He knows it isn’t him Nate’s trying to shove out. It’s Safrin. And it’s all Sunjata can do to keep his grip on Nate, to stroke his cheek with his thumbs, down to the corner of his lips, pausing to relish in the relief and closeness they have right now as he stares at the ceiling, blinking back tears before he manages to scan his husbands face. The breathy word, the sentence that’s thick with Nate’s accent is like music to the Attuned’s ears, and his lips tremble when he tries to smile, clamping them shut into a fine line.
“My Skatjie” He whispers like a prayer, letting his swimming steel gaze commit Nate’s face to memory for the millionth time. One of his hands rises, thumb brushing along the edge of the scar that bisects Nate’s face, before his gloved fingers run up along Nate’s temple, dragging through the dark curls there, until his hand ends at Nate’s neck, on the silvery faint claw scars there. He continues to peer at his husband, chest tightening, swallowing hard against the tightness of his throat.
He almost asks what he’s going to do without him, but he refrains. The crease of his eyes, the furrow of his brows as he tries to keep himself from falling apart are evidence enough. “My moonlight.” He settles on instead.
Sunjata knows better, though. He knows it isn’t him Nate’s trying to shove out. It’s Safrin. And it’s all Sunjata can do to keep his grip on Nate, to stroke his cheek with his thumbs, down to the corner of his lips, pausing to relish in the relief and closeness they have right now as he stares at the ceiling, blinking back tears before he manages to scan his husbands face. The breathy word, the sentence that’s thick with Nate’s accent is like music to the Attuned’s ears, and his lips tremble when he tries to smile, clamping them shut into a fine line.
“My Skatjie” He whispers like a prayer, letting his swimming steel gaze commit Nate’s face to memory for the millionth time. One of his hands rises, thumb brushing along the edge of the scar that bisects Nate’s face, before his gloved fingers run up along Nate’s temple, dragging through the dark curls there, until his hand ends at Nate’s neck, on the silvery faint claw scars there. He continues to peer at his husband, chest tightening, swallowing hard against the tightness of his throat.
He almost asks what he’s going to do without him, but he refrains. The crease of his eyes, the furrow of his brows as he tries to keep himself from falling apart are evidence enough. “My moonlight.” He settles on instead.
i've learned to lose, you can't afford to
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.
