- NATE -
I don’t want a world
Without pain or loss
Without pain or loss
Nothing had changed, not really. Nate didn't feel any different, didn't feel any pain. The blackness on one side was still a struggle, his quick reflexes and other enhanced senses were helping to pick up the slack. But he'd walked himself back home, after the night in the Slagveld, still wandered around the house, when it was dark and late. Still laid in bed, in Sunjata's arms, aching to sleep, just for a little bit.
Everything had changed, so much. Every day was going through the motions, repeating the actions to some dance he had lined out in his head, a play at normalcy. He'd stopped trying to fiddle with things, objects slipping from between his fingers far more often than they ever had before. He had to stop trying to cook, both for the little nicks that marred his fingers, and the panic he'd had the first time he'd missed the pan, gotten too close to the heat.
There was still the hint of the sun on the horizon, over the ocean, a sliver of gold that Nate stared into from where he sat, in the corner of the porch, hidden from view by the branches of wisteria, the few leaves and flowers still clinging on despite the deepfrost chill. Haai sits at his side, a near constant presence, while Pemota lingers around his head, a circling crown of starlight and static. She kept some of the darkness away, but not the buzzing in his head, a kind of vacant distance, as his fingers crept up along his cheek, pressing at the edges of the bandage that still covered most of his face. That was another little mar, the spot healing, quickly, for the first few days, but then not at all, an ugly, jagged crevasse over his features.
He wonders absently what Sunjata was doing, where in the house he was lingering. If maybe, he should have said something, considering it's the first time he's ventured outside since they returned home. Wonders if maybe he should head back inside, back where he doesn't get paranoid prickles down the back of his neck, where his head doesn't shift at the sounds he can't quite place right away.
Everything had changed, so much. Every day was going through the motions, repeating the actions to some dance he had lined out in his head, a play at normalcy. He'd stopped trying to fiddle with things, objects slipping from between his fingers far more often than they ever had before. He had to stop trying to cook, both for the little nicks that marred his fingers, and the panic he'd had the first time he'd missed the pan, gotten too close to the heat.
There was still the hint of the sun on the horizon, over the ocean, a sliver of gold that Nate stared into from where he sat, in the corner of the porch, hidden from view by the branches of wisteria, the few leaves and flowers still clinging on despite the deepfrost chill. Haai sits at his side, a near constant presence, while Pemota lingers around his head, a circling crown of starlight and static. She kept some of the darkness away, but not the buzzing in his head, a kind of vacant distance, as his fingers crept up along his cheek, pressing at the edges of the bandage that still covered most of his face. That was another little mar, the spot healing, quickly, for the first few days, but then not at all, an ugly, jagged crevasse over his features.
He wonders absently what Sunjata was doing, where in the house he was lingering. If maybe, he should have said something, considering it's the first time he's ventured outside since they returned home. Wonders if maybe he should head back inside, back where he doesn't get paranoid prickles down the back of his neck, where his head doesn't shift at the sounds he can't quite place right away.
I just want them
To mean something
To mean something
