[Death has a habit of being reserved - he's the quieter one, just as prone to atrocity as his other half but much less vibrant by default. But there are things that wake in him a beast, one of destruction and intensity that bleeds through cracks in his casing. Zephir has the key to unravel it all in his palm, in the sighs of his voice and the need of his body.
Sullivan hisses through his teeth, parting his lips and letting the next upheave vacate the white he drank from Zephir come back up, rejected by his body for its pureness of life, affected by the staining of his own body as it ran through him and reemerges, thick between the two of them. It slips past their lips, down their chins, and he tries like a mother bird to let it all flow into Zephir's mouth directly.]
cw: emeto
Sullivan hisses through his teeth, parting his lips and letting the next upheave vacate the white he drank from Zephir come back up, rejected by his body for its pureness of life, affected by the staining of his own body as it ran through him and reemerges, thick between the two of them. It slips past their lips, down their chins, and he tries like a mother bird to let it all flow into Zephir's mouth directly.]