did you miss me enough to drink, or did you drink enough to miss me?
It's a little strange to see his companion moving so joyfully, singing and pressing against Jyoti eagerly. Nate had only had her a short time, but she'd been moody for all of it, mistrustful of him at best, and intentionally aggravating at worst. The rather unwelcome thought of is it me? slipped into his mind, but that was a crisis for a different time.
"I didn't know they were a thing at all." Nate admits a little sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. The Voice had something to the effect, something about learning of the creatures of the sky. Amalia's answer has a brow rising though, Nate's head cocking. "What do you mean fallen? Not... literally, like..." He lifts a finger high, then lets it drop back to his side, a low whistle accompanying the demonstration.
This time, Nate realizes he is not the one being questioned, and as much as it rubs him the wrong way, he keeps quiet, arms folding across his chest, keeping his mind open to try and catch the answers his companion gives, something threatening to become guilt settling in his gut. Pemota's answers are scattered, almost distracted. She doesn't remember a pod, barely remembers the stars, but she is happy to drift down into Amalia's touch, her trilling growing squeaky with how excited she is. The mention of Safrin though, has her pulling away quickly, a chorus of insistent No's fluttering behind her as she heads towards Nate, surprising him more than anything.
"I didn't know they were a thing at all." Nate admits a little sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. The Voice had something to the effect, something about learning of the creatures of the sky. Amalia's answer has a brow rising though, Nate's head cocking. "What do you mean fallen? Not... literally, like..." He lifts a finger high, then lets it drop back to his side, a low whistle accompanying the demonstration.
This time, Nate realizes he is not the one being questioned, and as much as it rubs him the wrong way, he keeps quiet, arms folding across his chest, keeping his mind open to try and catch the answers his companion gives, something threatening to become guilt settling in his gut. Pemota's answers are scattered, almost distracted. She doesn't remember a pod, barely remembers the stars, but she is happy to drift down into Amalia's touch, her trilling growing squeaky with how excited she is. The mention of Safrin though, has her pulling away quickly, a chorus of insistent No's fluttering behind her as she heads towards Nate, surprising him more than anything.
NATE
