NATE
"Can't say for sure until something gives." The words are accompanied by a shrug, Nate not particularly invested in if a stranger does well. Old habits are hard to break, and he's read the other man right at all, it doesn't seem like he's really going to put that much effort in.
Meeting the other mans stare and cocking his head, Nate sighs heavily through his nose. "It's easy. We want to be treated like anyone else, and they want to kill us all." A gross oversimplification, if not an outright lie, but Nate can't really help himself. He's exhausted of having to defend his very existence. It isn't fair.
"Nothing's stopping you from just leaving any other way. Portals are open all over now. Just hop into one and go somewhere new." No dragon that way, but if it's only the smoke and not the fucking then that shouldn't really be an issue, right? "And you don't get sucked into the wrong side of a war that way." Nate pulls on his smoke until it's all ash, impossibly sticking together for one perfect moment before he shifts, exhales through his nose and blows smoke and ash both into the wind.
Some jealous note twangs in Nate, his face twitching as he takes a step closer to Locke. "He's a lot more than just a fucking dragon." Anger is the first clear emotion to radiate from Nate, a pair of glowing blue arms materializing from nothing as he goes deathly still. Does he even know why he's angry? Absolutely not, but that isn't going to stop him from taking it out on a convenient face.
Luckily (for Locke) the glowing shape of a starwhal comes trilling out of the mist and jungle, Nate's electric gaze snapping towards his companion as a wave of calming starlight settles over him. The extra arms vanish, one of the ascended natural ones rising to stroke along Pemota's side. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, then looks over at Locke. His mouth opens like he's going to say something that he immediately thinks better of, and he looks off into the jungle again. "I should get going."
Fin~
Meeting the other mans stare and cocking his head, Nate sighs heavily through his nose. "It's easy. We want to be treated like anyone else, and they want to kill us all." A gross oversimplification, if not an outright lie, but Nate can't really help himself. He's exhausted of having to defend his very existence. It isn't fair.
"Nothing's stopping you from just leaving any other way. Portals are open all over now. Just hop into one and go somewhere new." No dragon that way, but if it's only the smoke and not the fucking then that shouldn't really be an issue, right? "And you don't get sucked into the wrong side of a war that way." Nate pulls on his smoke until it's all ash, impossibly sticking together for one perfect moment before he shifts, exhales through his nose and blows smoke and ash both into the wind.
Some jealous note twangs in Nate, his face twitching as he takes a step closer to Locke. "He's a lot more than just a fucking dragon." Anger is the first clear emotion to radiate from Nate, a pair of glowing blue arms materializing from nothing as he goes deathly still. Does he even know why he's angry? Absolutely not, but that isn't going to stop him from taking it out on a convenient face.
Luckily (for Locke) the glowing shape of a starwhal comes trilling out of the mist and jungle, Nate's electric gaze snapping towards his companion as a wave of calming starlight settles over him. The extra arms vanish, one of the ascended natural ones rising to stroke along Pemota's side. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, then looks over at Locke. His mouth opens like he's going to say something that he immediately thinks better of, and he looks off into the jungle again. "I should get going."
Fin~
Is there an acceptable result?
Do we mean something when we talk?
Do we mean something when we talk?
