i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
being pulled by the moon in a high tide
It isn’t her fault to have misstepped. He knows that. He also knows her outlook when she begins to speak it, nodding his understanding as he repeats the last little bit (because gods he’s heard it fall from those full lips so many times over the years). “—move on – or we give up.” Almost in unison with her, his deeper voice trails off shortly after her own before he exhales a quiet sigh and finds his gaze returning to her despite the hard conversation, for once not wanting to hide himself as he bares himself to her because he knows she’ll understand.
She always has when it came to matters like thisexcluding godly intervention, of course, and it was something he’d always taken for granted. His lips part to speak, before he promptly clamps his mouth shut and works his jaw, the scar that widens his smile twisting slightly with the movement of the way he grinds his teeth. She glances down and away, continues to reach the parts of him that only she could seem to reach, and he nods – stepping away as much as it hurts him to, in order to sit atop the furs that line the bed, letting the wind dance across his back and flicker through his drying hair, wind that spins the feathered dangly earrings that had been a gift from Nate.
“You’re right.” He agrees, but it isn’t the whole crux of the issue. And he finds himself tilting his head up, peering at the ceiling from the bed, exposing his neck to her that only harbors the compasses and scar that dances down his main artery to beneath his clothes. “But I have no purpose otherwise.” It’s harder for him to admit, and he tilts his head down to scan her with a small sad smile. “I selfishly want comfort I can never get again. Not like I had. And everyone else now… I mean, they can offer it fleetingly and sparingly, but it’s not the same. It’s not like…” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat as it starts to feel like it’s filling with gravel to have to place this onto her, to say it aloud just as Isla had said the night before that he should tell her how he feels. And while it isn't exactly what he wants to say, he's never been good at his words, and he knows that Hotaru can read between the lines.
“With you.” Because you were there, you understand. You loved him just like I do still.
She always has when it came to matters like this
“You’re right.” He agrees, but it isn’t the whole crux of the issue. And he finds himself tilting his head up, peering at the ceiling from the bed, exposing his neck to her that only harbors the compasses and scar that dances down his main artery to beneath his clothes. “But I have no purpose otherwise.” It’s harder for him to admit, and he tilts his head down to scan her with a small sad smile. “I selfishly want comfort I can never get again. Not like I had. And everyone else now… I mean, they can offer it fleetingly and sparingly, but it’s not the same. It’s not like…” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat as it starts to feel like it’s filling with gravel to have to place this onto her, to say it aloud just as Isla had said the night before that he should tell her how he feels. And while it isn't exactly what he wants to say, he's never been good at his words, and he knows that Hotaru can read between the lines.
“With you.” Because you were there, you understand. You loved him just like I do still.
the flood
that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?
am i a villain or a saint?
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.
