// ready or not here i come
did i take you from the bats in the woods? //
did i take you from the bats in the woods? //
All of the plans in Nate’s mind make sense to the Attuned, and it’s met with a slight breath of fresh air – little nods here and there, little additions made before he inhales his breakfast. Come Flowerbirth we can make a nice table for the porch to go with it all. And the conversation shifts back and forth just like that, until Sunjata’s ready to get a start on the day.
The I love you is met with unbridled warmth from Sunjata, one that cuts through his tempered grief as he focuses on the truth Nate speaks with. The kiss is reciprocated, one that Sunjata reluctantly pulls away from him, tangling his fingers with Nate’s until he has to part to slip the gloves on, to slip into the jacket, to button it and tighten it around him. Alright. Sunjata murmurs, watching Nate slip on his outerwear and Sunjata waits – because Nate’s blocking the door.
There’s a huff of a sound that leaves him, the tugging of a smile on his face as he stands up straight to let Nate slip the scarf around his neck and ears. Are you mother henning me? He asks playfully – the most playful he’s been today so far, but the prospect of the cold seems to help his internal war.
Eventually, though, they’re heading out the door into the snow – a glance back at the house to try and ease Pemota’s worry, along with a quiet ‘we won’t’ despite the fact they absolutely will.
The trek they take has them heading further out from the Boondocks, one that has them circling easily to get a map of the place, far enough away to lose track of their home if it weren’t for the deep footfalls that the snow does its best to fill (but Sunjata’s been here long enough to know where home was, and even if he was lost, the varying shifts within him would find it).
Idle chatter and little side note conversations made of the world around them covered in snow before the trees begin to break and large stones blot out a lot of the landscape. Sunjata’s flew over it many at time, but he casts a glance over at Nate with steel eyes reflected brighter by the pale landscape. I think we’re close to the Barrows? He murmurs, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders up to his ears as a chill snakes down his spine.
And it isn’t the cold that cuts him to the bone so deeply, but the blood curdling scream that echoes from the stones and the barrows further in. And Nate would feel the shift from casual relief to the protective ferocity of the dragon lingering in his skin as his head snaps toward the sound, gaze narrowing in his search. What was that?
The I love you is met with unbridled warmth from Sunjata, one that cuts through his tempered grief as he focuses on the truth Nate speaks with. The kiss is reciprocated, one that Sunjata reluctantly pulls away from him, tangling his fingers with Nate’s until he has to part to slip the gloves on, to slip into the jacket, to button it and tighten it around him. Alright. Sunjata murmurs, watching Nate slip on his outerwear and Sunjata waits – because Nate’s blocking the door.
There’s a huff of a sound that leaves him, the tugging of a smile on his face as he stands up straight to let Nate slip the scarf around his neck and ears. Are you mother henning me? He asks playfully – the most playful he’s been today so far, but the prospect of the cold seems to help his internal war.
Eventually, though, they’re heading out the door into the snow – a glance back at the house to try and ease Pemota’s worry, along with a quiet ‘we won’t’ despite the fact they absolutely will.
The trek they take has them heading further out from the Boondocks, one that has them circling easily to get a map of the place, far enough away to lose track of their home if it weren’t for the deep footfalls that the snow does its best to fill (but Sunjata’s been here long enough to know where home was, and even if he was lost, the varying shifts within him would find it).
Idle chatter and little side note conversations made of the world around them covered in snow before the trees begin to break and large stones blot out a lot of the landscape. Sunjata’s flew over it many at time, but he casts a glance over at Nate with steel eyes reflected brighter by the pale landscape. I think we’re close to the Barrows? He murmurs, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders up to his ears as a chill snakes down his spine.
And it isn’t the cold that cuts him to the bone so deeply, but the blood curdling scream that echoes from the stones and the barrows further in. And Nate would feel the shift from casual relief to the protective ferocity of the dragon lingering in his skin as his head snaps toward the sound, gaze narrowing in his search. What was that?
// i'll show you no harm, i know you mean well
but we're up to no good //
but we're up to no good //
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.
