with heaven on my mind, and hell, well i believe
He might not need to breathe, might not feel pain, but there is still a part of Nate that knows how to bite of a blade will feel, that tenses, a very human tremble in his outstretched fingers. His face is all confidence though, smooth smile offered towards Sunjata. "I'm sure about it." He promises, flexing his hand up, not noticing as the blade bites into the meat of his palm with the slight motion, not yet deep enough for fluid to flow. "You'll have to make it deep to make it scar." Nate says it like he wouldn't mind that, wouldn't mind matching, electric eyes tracing along the scar on Sunjata's palm.
They shift back to the attuned's face at the mention of tradition though, one of Nate's brows quirked in quiet interest. "What's the tradition?" He asks, reaching up with his free hand to squeeze the other man's shoulder tightly.
They shift back to the attuned's face at the mention of tradition though, one of Nate's brows quirked in quiet interest. "What's the tradition?" He asks, reaching up with his free hand to squeeze the other man's shoulder tightly.
in the stage lights, come down, breaking over me
NATE
