i'll turn myself into a gun, because it's all i have, because i'm hungry and hollow
It is absolutely impossible to keep feeding the bright, angry, addicting spark of rage with Bart, his very presence adding a measure of control that had been out of reach for Nate alone. There's something about having another set of shoulders ready and waiting to shoulder the emotional burdens he can't even begin to explain. Something that makes them tamer, because he's already understood. One last belch of thick smoke comes out in the sneer that screws up the ascended's face in response to the snort. "Fuck off, maybe I'm just tryin' t'not make you cry anymore."
Nate lets his brother know exactly what he thinks of the cursed words that have just left him, a groan of "Cazzo Madre di Dio, yer depraved." The curse drops from him so easily, so naturally, as if it doesn't immediately bring to mind memories of being swatted around the head by an irate and offended grandparent. A hand lifts to touch between his teeth almost gingerly, the sharp tip of his canine poking into his thumb. "S'not some Nosferatu thing y'fuckin' skid." Much as it might irritate him, he cannot deny Bart, hands snapping to attention with a nail and hammer to reaffix the board.
Just as he's about to explain in detail what's wrong with the suggestion, Bart tosses him a scrap, something he can't help but fixate on. It's not just the thought, but everything that surrounds it. The one good eye Nate has right now focuses on his brother, taking in everything, the pinch between his brow, and the twist in his lips, and just like that something in him calms. "Think that sounds like a good idea." He offers back after a moment, something approaching a smile dragging itself out of the grave and onto Nate's face.
If nothing else, Nate is distracted away from his own shit for the afternoon, every passing minute lightening him more and more until they finally reach a critical mass of bullshit back and forth, work a distant memory as the twins riff about better days in another world, names and memories thrown back and forth.
Done~
Nate lets his brother know exactly what he thinks of the cursed words that have just left him, a groan of "Cazzo Madre di Dio, yer depraved." The curse drops from him so easily, so naturally, as if it doesn't immediately bring to mind memories of being swatted around the head by an irate and offended grandparent. A hand lifts to touch between his teeth almost gingerly, the sharp tip of his canine poking into his thumb. "S'not some Nosferatu thing y'fuckin' skid." Much as it might irritate him, he cannot deny Bart, hands snapping to attention with a nail and hammer to reaffix the board.
Just as he's about to explain in detail what's wrong with the suggestion, Bart tosses him a scrap, something he can't help but fixate on. It's not just the thought, but everything that surrounds it. The one good eye Nate has right now focuses on his brother, taking in everything, the pinch between his brow, and the twist in his lips, and just like that something in him calms. "Think that sounds like a good idea." He offers back after a moment, something approaching a smile dragging itself out of the grave and onto Nate's face.
If nothing else, Nate is distracted away from his own shit for the afternoon, every passing minute lightening him more and more until they finally reach a critical mass of bullshit back and forth, work a distant memory as the twins riff about better days in another world, names and memories thrown back and forth.
Done~
and just want something to call my own
NATE
