if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
He hates this. Hates having to do it, hates that it’s necessary, hates the at he has to do it. But at the same time, it’s simple at least. If he strips the problem down, like at it from a purely logical place, it’s easy. It’s distracting. It’s... it’s his husband in an amount of pain he can’t even Omaha one anymore, and here he is thinking of it as a distraction. Something to keep his mind, his hands busy, and away from his own worries. How selfish.
Sunjata’s words are not the balm they’re supposed to be, Nate’s jaw tightening as he swallows, and sends a pulse of forced agreement down the bond. There has been worse. There’s been so much worse and this was already so bad and he has no idea how to parse that, no idea where to pin this on the scale of more fucked up than he’d wanted to deal with.
Another deep breath is pulled in through Nate’s nose, his hands slowing as silence stretches out, just a breath too long before the ascended responds. It’s okay. We got you fixed up. The pause stretches out his careful wrapping of the wing, adding unnecessary seconds to the healing, but at this point it’s such a minor addition, such a barely there hassle that he can’t spare much thought or regret to it.
I don’t know it it’ll heal when it’s uh... not out. Attunement added a whole extra layer of difficulty, a layer of something utterly unpredictable. Nate shifts, the wing wrapped as properly as he can manage, and lays down on the floor properly, beside his husband. Even he can tell that it’s not comfortable, but it’s close, and he moves even closer, once he gets the chance. One of his hands is never far from his husband, while the other fusses with the bottle, with pushing the belt away.
Sunjata’s words are not the balm they’re supposed to be, Nate’s jaw tightening as he swallows, and sends a pulse of forced agreement down the bond. There has been worse. There’s been so much worse and this was already so bad and he has no idea how to parse that, no idea where to pin this on the scale of more fucked up than he’d wanted to deal with.
Another deep breath is pulled in through Nate’s nose, his hands slowing as silence stretches out, just a breath too long before the ascended responds. It’s okay. We got you fixed up. The pause stretches out his careful wrapping of the wing, adding unnecessary seconds to the healing, but at this point it’s such a minor addition, such a barely there hassle that he can’t spare much thought or regret to it.
I don’t know it it’ll heal when it’s uh... not out. Attunement added a whole extra layer of difficulty, a layer of something utterly unpredictable. Nate shifts, the wing wrapped as properly as he can manage, and lays down on the floor properly, beside his husband. Even he can tell that it’s not comfortable, but it’s close, and he moves even closer, once he gets the chance. One of his hands is never far from his husband, while the other fusses with the bottle, with pushing the belt away.
NATE
