i said make me love myself, so that i might love you // don't make me a liar
Honestly, Nate isn't sure why he bothers trying to go to the shrine, a few days after it's been completed. He isn't sure why he helped bring it to fruition at all, though the part of him that isn't overwhelmed by frustration reminds him that it's beneficial to not have to make the trek to the Hollowed Grounds when he needs to be refreshed, and at least it's a closer place to go to to be ignored. He can all but see his house from here.
There is an offering in his hands, a shard of blue seaglass, in a jagged shape, not unlike the lightning in the shrines hand. Nate turned it over in his hands as he stood before the altar, an all too familiar resignation settling in his shoulders as he worked his jaw, tried to pick through his words.
"Did I... am I doing this wrong? Am I fucking this up somehow?" The words echo around the chamber, Nate reaching up to run a hand through his hair, his frustration, anger, dripping off his tongue. "I mean, I know you exist, I've seen you, you... made me." A scoff there, the subject a whole different can of worms. "Everyone else sees you, and they're all so fucking happy with it." The hand in his hair moves to rub at his jaw, at the half healed marks along his throat, some of the bitterness draining out of him, replaced by an exhaustion.
"So it's me, right?"
There is an offering in his hands, a shard of blue seaglass, in a jagged shape, not unlike the lightning in the shrines hand. Nate turned it over in his hands as he stood before the altar, an all too familiar resignation settling in his shoulders as he worked his jaw, tried to pick through his words.
"Did I... am I doing this wrong? Am I fucking this up somehow?" The words echo around the chamber, Nate reaching up to run a hand through his hair, his frustration, anger, dripping off his tongue. "I mean, I know you exist, I've seen you, you... made me." A scoff there, the subject a whole different can of worms. "Everyone else sees you, and they're all so fucking happy with it." The hand in his hair moves to rub at his jaw, at the half healed marks along his throat, some of the bitterness draining out of him, replaced by an exhaustion.
"So it's me, right?"
because i swear to god // when i said it, i thought it was true
