there's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly
It’s not any one thing that really ruins this trip. Not at all. Any one thing can be managed, can be mitigated. It’s all the little things coming together in a tidal wave to drown Nate in exhausting worry. He can’t sleep, can’t soothe it, not while they’re here, so far from home and sanctuary. Nate hasn’t let his guard down once, and it’s made him snappy, prickly to everyone but the attuned at his side.
Fingers squeeze Sunjata’s hand tightly, Nate all but refusing to break contact with his husband, even for a moment. He too has two lanterns bundled up safely in his arms, oneof them carved from wood and stained with such a deep blue it looks almost black, shards of reflecting mirror representing Clem better than any flickering flame could. The other is simpler, in a way, reminiscent of an elaborate chandelier that now exists only in his memories, for his brother.
We had it last year. The words are almost distracted, Nate working his jaw more than enough to make up for the fact that his husband can’t, eyes flicking around the room, taking in the people already there, the lanterns held in nearly every set of hands. Too bad it isn’t the Greatwood. We could have skipped it then. A soft snort leaves him, mismatched eyes turning to Sunjata just in time to meet steel, humour softening the suspicious pinch of Nate’s brow.
Fingers squeeze Sunjata’s hand tightly, Nate all but refusing to break contact with his husband, even for a moment. He too has two lanterns bundled up safely in his arms, oneof them carved from wood and stained with such a deep blue it looks almost black, shards of reflecting mirror representing Clem better than any flickering flame could. The other is simpler, in a way, reminiscent of an elaborate chandelier that now exists only in his memories, for his brother.
We had it last year. The words are almost distracted, Nate working his jaw more than enough to make up for the fact that his husband can’t, eyes flicking around the room, taking in the people already there, the lanterns held in nearly every set of hands. Too bad it isn’t the Greatwood. We could have skipped it then. A soft snort leaves him, mismatched eyes turning to Sunjata just in time to meet steel, humour softening the suspicious pinch of Nate’s brow.
NATE
