NATE
Life is hard that's why no one survives
I'm much older than I thought I'd be
I'm much older than I thought I'd be
Nate has no way to know the threat his stumbling, wobbling motions are seen as, no way to correctthat perception. In fact, there is something inhim that seems to forget he's even being perceived, as his shape trembles, becomes something so familiar it makes his heart clench, no matter how impossible that is. Becomes something he loathes so much his stomach tries to rip out of him, has his flails growing a touch more desperate, int he moment before he wrestles some kind of conrol over himself, even if it's only a facade.
No... no... The mumbling words are silent, not that Nate really knows, but the bats tiny body language speaks volumes, wings lifting to try and hide him, pressed against the locked door of the bar that should, by all account, be home. Even the new closeness of the golden dragon doesn't seem to rouse his spirits, to Slowly, almost painfully, Nate's body grows again, spreading into a man curled up, the picture of defeat. Pemota floats closer to him, casting a shining curtain between her bonded and the strangers, while offering comfort in the same motion. "I... I should go home. I need to."
All at once, Nate is on his feet, hands moving over his chest, checking for whatever it is that feels so broken. There must be something, to explain the yawning empitness in his chest, the contradictory heaviness that seems to be trying to drag him back to the ground. Both hands reach out, once he's found nothing, once the reason for disapointment, for the check is struck from his mind. "Thank you, thank you." Whether Amaris allows him to grab her hands or not, Nate will still let his gratitude fall from his lips, a fervent oily thing, desperate to be believed. It's the only thing he leaves behind, Nate turning away quite resolutely, away from the bar, from his newfound companion, away from Snowcloak. The cold won't touch him, though it doesn't stop him from shivering, from trying to curl up and wind bites into him.
Fin~
No... no... The mumbling words are silent, not that Nate really knows, but the bats tiny body language speaks volumes, wings lifting to try and hide him, pressed against the locked door of the bar that should, by all account, be home. Even the new closeness of the golden dragon doesn't seem to rouse his spirits, to Slowly, almost painfully, Nate's body grows again, spreading into a man curled up, the picture of defeat. Pemota floats closer to him, casting a shining curtain between her bonded and the strangers, while offering comfort in the same motion. "I... I should go home. I need to."
All at once, Nate is on his feet, hands moving over his chest, checking for whatever it is that feels so broken. There must be something, to explain the yawning empitness in his chest, the contradictory heaviness that seems to be trying to drag him back to the ground. Both hands reach out, once he's found nothing, once the reason for disapointment, for the check is struck from his mind. "Thank you, thank you." Whether Amaris allows him to grab her hands or not, Nate will still let his gratitude fall from his lips, a fervent oily thing, desperate to be believed. It's the only thing he leaves behind, Nate turning away quite resolutely, away from the bar, from his newfound companion, away from Snowcloak. The cold won't touch him, though it doesn't stop him from shivering, from trying to curl up and wind bites into him.
Fin~
Feel like a fool, yeah, like a dancing fool, yeah
Footloose and fancy free
Footloose and fancy free
