- NATE -
I don’t want a world
Without pain or loss
Without pain or loss
There's a part of Nate that wants to make the same joke in response to Sunjata's words, wants to mention payback and karma like an ouroboros, except it ruins his internal narrative a little bit. Whenever the attuned comes home hurt, there's nothing Nate wants to do more than protect him, than keep him wrapped up and safe. Sure, he'd complained, he'd berated, but it had all come from a place of love, of worry. And Sunjata had never felt like a burden. Though, he had been injured in ways that made sense, even if they were stupid. This didn't make sense. He'd wanted to help, and he'd been punished for it, and it didn't make sense.
There were a lot of parts of this he tried to not think about, that he made a deliberate attempt to keep at arms length, but none of them more than the attack itself, the randomness, the ferocity.
It's so easy to exist behind that disconnect, to lean into the mask and let something purely clinical come out. It's a disconnect he needs more than anything, without the chance to sleep, to ever really turn off his mind. "No. Not for very long, at least. The wound site should be kept moist, to promote faster regrowth." An entire article comes back to him, clear as day, though he'd found it boring at the time, the effort of moist wound healing seeming time consuming, not at all what he'd wanted to be learning about. Funny how priorities shifted, how he had somehow managed to receive the one wound where knowledge he had never thought he'd use had come back. "I don't scab really, and it can't get infected, so keeping it moist is the best way to try and get it to heal nicely." He should put the bandage back on right away, or rather, should get a fresh one, but he's in no rush to move back inside, to wrap himself up again. A few moments won't hurt it.
"Hmmm." Nate's free hand comes up to pull at his cheek as he considers, the joke becoming a little more serious. It was actually a possibility, after all. "I think grey might look a little better." An ever vain musing, before he turns (and turns and turns, to actually get Sunjata back into view) and cocks his head. "Which would you like better?" It still comes out in the same light, joking tone, but somehow the words have a weight, an expectation riding on them, the attuneds opinion mattering more than it has before in this junction.
It's easy to pull him in closer though, Nate's hand falling away from his own face so it can wrap around the other man as well, a proper, if a little awkward, hug. Pemota lets out a soft crooning, her light washing over the pair of them, easing something in Nate whether he wants it or not, and pulling a soft sigh from him. He doesn't know when he'll be ready. Doesn't know when he'll be done processing it, done dealing with it, at least enough to go and prod at it again. It's nice to know, to be reassured, that he has someone at his side, someone on his side. "Well I know you didn't fall in love with me for just my looks." It's meant to be a light quip back, though his tongue sharpens it, angles the words into something that could be an accusation. And Nate teeters, caught between keeping quiet, so he doesn't fuck up more, and trying again to explain himself, say the wrong thing, in the wrong tone.
There were a lot of parts of this he tried to not think about, that he made a deliberate attempt to keep at arms length, but none of them more than the attack itself, the randomness, the ferocity.
It's so easy to exist behind that disconnect, to lean into the mask and let something purely clinical come out. It's a disconnect he needs more than anything, without the chance to sleep, to ever really turn off his mind. "No. Not for very long, at least. The wound site should be kept moist, to promote faster regrowth." An entire article comes back to him, clear as day, though he'd found it boring at the time, the effort of moist wound healing seeming time consuming, not at all what he'd wanted to be learning about. Funny how priorities shifted, how he had somehow managed to receive the one wound where knowledge he had never thought he'd use had come back. "I don't scab really, and it can't get infected, so keeping it moist is the best way to try and get it to heal nicely." He should put the bandage back on right away, or rather, should get a fresh one, but he's in no rush to move back inside, to wrap himself up again. A few moments won't hurt it.
"Hmmm." Nate's free hand comes up to pull at his cheek as he considers, the joke becoming a little more serious. It was actually a possibility, after all. "I think grey might look a little better." An ever vain musing, before he turns (and turns and turns, to actually get Sunjata back into view) and cocks his head. "Which would you like better?" It still comes out in the same light, joking tone, but somehow the words have a weight, an expectation riding on them, the attuneds opinion mattering more than it has before in this junction.
It's easy to pull him in closer though, Nate's hand falling away from his own face so it can wrap around the other man as well, a proper, if a little awkward, hug. Pemota lets out a soft crooning, her light washing over the pair of them, easing something in Nate whether he wants it or not, and pulling a soft sigh from him. He doesn't know when he'll be ready. Doesn't know when he'll be done processing it, done dealing with it, at least enough to go and prod at it again. It's nice to know, to be reassured, that he has someone at his side, someone on his side. "Well I know you didn't fall in love with me for just my looks." It's meant to be a light quip back, though his tongue sharpens it, angles the words into something that could be an accusation. And Nate teeters, caught between keeping quiet, so he doesn't fuck up more, and trying again to explain himself, say the wrong thing, in the wrong tone.
I just want them
To mean something
To mean something
