SUNJATA
the flood
but am i too late? or hearts to your spades,
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?
A snort leaves him as she dashes his ‘terrible’ adjective and gives another to it, his gaze pulling away from her to offer a slight shake of his head, an agreement of a sort before he’s looking back at her. “I will try to keep it in mind.” He informs her, though a part of him still wants to bottle it up, still wants to carry his burden, because at least in that instance, he didn’t have to depress all of those around him with the weight of it all.
But she’s moving, and he remains in place until she manages to figure out where she wants to go. She settles in his lap quickly, planting both legs on either side of him and his arms move to wrap around her waist as she wraps hers around his neck, pressing herself against him as tight as she can. And he tenses, initially, almost a flinch of sorts before it melts away and his shoulders relax, his head rests on her shoulder, a flickering of feathers sprinkling along his shoulders.
There’s a huff of a sigh that leaves him, silent for a few long moments as he lets the sensation wash over him, touch starved as he’s become. It had taken a lot of time for him to get used to it in the first place, and with everything that had happened to him, Nate had done a wonderful job of Sunjata getting used to expressing his feelings in this way. And perhaps that’s what made it so difficult, being unable to touch his husband, having to use his choice of words which never came out right. He was always so afraid to overstep or understep, to overshare or never say enough, that touch had been his mediator.
And without it? He’s grown touch starved, difficult, thrown into a tornado of his own making with knives that spun around and javelined him in the heart at any and every opportunity.
He pulls his head back a fraction, one hand rising to Maeve’s hair, to brush it back before his tired steel gaze focuses on her. “Not pretending, for me, is quite self-destructive and dangerous.” He informs her, bluntly, pausing to scan her face. “I just-- I don’t want to think about it right now.” There’s always tomorrow and the next day and the day after that to think about it, how to fix it, how to be better so Nate feels safe here with him again.
For now, however, he doesn’t want to face any of it. For now, he wants to ignore it until it rears its head again.
But she’s moving, and he remains in place until she manages to figure out where she wants to go. She settles in his lap quickly, planting both legs on either side of him and his arms move to wrap around her waist as she wraps hers around his neck, pressing herself against him as tight as she can. And he tenses, initially, almost a flinch of sorts before it melts away and his shoulders relax, his head rests on her shoulder, a flickering of feathers sprinkling along his shoulders.
There’s a huff of a sigh that leaves him, silent for a few long moments as he lets the sensation wash over him, touch starved as he’s become. It had taken a lot of time for him to get used to it in the first place, and with everything that had happened to him, Nate had done a wonderful job of Sunjata getting used to expressing his feelings in this way. And perhaps that’s what made it so difficult, being unable to touch his husband, having to use his choice of words which never came out right. He was always so afraid to overstep or understep, to overshare or never say enough, that touch had been his mediator.
And without it? He’s grown touch starved, difficult, thrown into a tornado of his own making with knives that spun around and javelined him in the heart at any and every opportunity.
He pulls his head back a fraction, one hand rising to Maeve’s hair, to brush it back before his tired steel gaze focuses on her. “Not pretending, for me, is quite self-destructive and dangerous.” He informs her, bluntly, pausing to scan her face. “I just-- I don’t want to think about it right now.” There’s always tomorrow and the next day and the day after that to think about it, how to fix it, how to be better so Nate feels safe here with him again.
For now, however, he doesn’t want to face any of it. For now, he wants to ignore it until it rears its head again.
so we're not written in the stars,
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything
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.
