in my darkness, you turned on a light
i hate the way you bring me back to life
Promise. He says with all the conviction he can muster, pressed into the single word, a word of which he’s broken many of. But there’s something deeper about it this time, something that seems to suggest it’s a deeper thread, a golden spark among the silver. A vow as strong as the one they’d promised each other while sick when they’d married, as strong as the one they’d said when they’d cut each palm open and recited the Korofi version of the ceremony.
His head tilts this way and that, a rumble leaving his throat as Nate’s fingers thread through his dark hair, sounding as close to a rumbling purr as he can manage without being fully shifted. The out loud beautiful doesn’t still him, doesn’t make him shy away from Nate when he moves to hide. If anything, he nuzzles himself in closer, ruined cheek brushing against the pale wrist of the Ascended’s, a pulse of beaming light shot down the bond through the dark of Nate’s vulnerability that seems to try its damnedest to burn it away.
His eyes close, though, long lashes brushing against the sharp cheekbone beneath it. And it stays closed even as he feels Nate’s gaze on him, simply relishing in the quiet moment they have, one that feels like they haven’t had in forever. He’d missed this. How simple it was. How the only arguments they had were over what stupid thing Sunjata had done and gotten hurt by, for having Nate patch him up.
Not talk of war and death and the inevitable slow crawl to extinction.
There’s something heavy in the way that Nate says I want to grow up with you, something Sunjata can’t place. But he tries anyway, pressing and nuzzling in, nestling and fitting himself so that his scarred, tattooed chest presses against Nate’s own, arms rising to let his elbows rest on either side of Nate’s head, fingers remaining in the dark hair when his wings come down to blanket the two of them. I want nothing more than that too. He breathes, even if there’s the edge of confusion that settles like a stone in the calmed down waters of his soul. What is it? Because Nate had paused, his breath had stilled, and Sunjata can’t quite place it.
He doesn’t dare think it could be the fact that Nate’s got the possibility of immortality should the Voice win. He doesn’t dare think that it’s the other slow death their relationship crawls toward.
Until the end, right?
Until the end of whom?
His head tilts this way and that, a rumble leaving his throat as Nate’s fingers thread through his dark hair, sounding as close to a rumbling purr as he can manage without being fully shifted. The out loud beautiful doesn’t still him, doesn’t make him shy away from Nate when he moves to hide. If anything, he nuzzles himself in closer, ruined cheek brushing against the pale wrist of the Ascended’s, a pulse of beaming light shot down the bond through the dark of Nate’s vulnerability that seems to try its damnedest to burn it away.
His eyes close, though, long lashes brushing against the sharp cheekbone beneath it. And it stays closed even as he feels Nate’s gaze on him, simply relishing in the quiet moment they have, one that feels like they haven’t had in forever. He’d missed this. How simple it was. How the only arguments they had were over what stupid thing Sunjata had done and gotten hurt by, for having Nate patch him up.
Not talk of war and death and the inevitable slow crawl to extinction.
There’s something heavy in the way that Nate says I want to grow up with you, something Sunjata can’t place. But he tries anyway, pressing and nuzzling in, nestling and fitting himself so that his scarred, tattooed chest presses against Nate’s own, arms rising to let his elbows rest on either side of Nate’s head, fingers remaining in the dark hair when his wings come down to blanket the two of them. I want nothing more than that too. He breathes, even if there’s the edge of confusion that settles like a stone in the calmed down waters of his soul. What is it? Because Nate had paused, his breath had stilled, and Sunjata can’t quite place it.
He doesn’t dare think it could be the fact that Nate’s got the possibility of immortality should the Voice win. He doesn’t dare think that it’s the other slow death their relationship crawls toward.
Until the end, right?
Until the end of whom?
'cause i am haunted, i cannot tell a lie
i like you better when i am dead inside
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.
