NATE
Who could ask to be unbroken
or be brave again?
or be brave again?
Or honey hope even on this side
of the grave again?
of the grave again?
The pain was bright, and hot, making even the lights from the Voice bled into a flare of red, and for a single terrible moment Nate was afraid that this is what had been meant by bright, that this terrible, inescapable pain would be forever but then, just as quickly as it had come on, it was gone, and he was left with a relieved warm, the sensation already so distant he could hardly remember the pain. The rest of his transformation was strange, there was a sense of change, new senses, sharper senses coming online without much fanfare, and then it was done, and he looked upon the Voice, Mother, wonder in his eyes.
The hand in his hair moved Nate easily, his eyes all but fluttering when he was presented with her wrist. Slowly, like he was moving for the first time (and wasn't he, in a sense?) he reached up to grab her hand and lean in, new fangs all but itching for the fluid he would get from her.
The hand in his hair moved Nate easily, his eyes all but fluttering when he was presented with her wrist. Slowly, like he was moving for the first time (and wasn't he, in a sense?) he reached up to grab her hand and lean in, new fangs all but itching for the fluid he would get from her.
And who could ask it to be sound
or to feel saved again?
or to feel saved again?
But stick around until you hear
that music play again
that music play again
