// i don't wanna break but I did today
guess i only have myself to blame //
guess i only have myself to blame //
There's really no way to put his finger on it directly, but the house in the Boondocks is... uncomfortable. Maybe, if Nate put more than a moment's thought into it he could summon the reason, but he's far more preoccupied with trying to not let it feel wrong. It's nice. Quiet, peaceful. Theirs. They'd fucking gone out of their way to build it to be right. And most times, it was great! Most times, there were people in it.
Nate can't stand to be in the place alone quite yet. Finds himself on edge, a chill he shouldn't be able to feel anymore drifting in through the windows, filling the house with a fog that no amount of fire can chase away. The snow doesn't help, muffling the world and keeping it far away. So, on days like this, days when he's the only one in the house, Nate wanders. There's a note left at home, obviously, but until the sun starts to set he is adrift, aimless, wandering along rolling hills with Pemota drifting ahead of him, anticipating the random footfalls that carry them into the wilderness.
She's the one who notices the irregularity in the snow first, her note of curiosity for once guiding Nate instead of the other way around. They make a silent duo as they approach down the hill, the shape making sense quickly as a familiar, confusing, welcome figure. Pemota seems to come to the same realization at the same moment and reveals them by drifting directly above Bart, turning to look down at him.
It's impossible to really describe how a creature with no real limbs communicates such a feeling of exhausted exasperation, but Pemota manages, sinking down to settle heavily on Bart's chest. And, conveniently, opening a spot for Nate to lean in, a crooked smirk spreading over his face. He half considers tormenting his little brother, and letting a dangling trail of drool hover dangerously over him, but they're not children anymore. "Whaddya doin' lyin' in the snow in smack dab nowhere, stupid?" See? Much more mature.
Nate can't stand to be in the place alone quite yet. Finds himself on edge, a chill he shouldn't be able to feel anymore drifting in through the windows, filling the house with a fog that no amount of fire can chase away. The snow doesn't help, muffling the world and keeping it far away. So, on days like this, days when he's the only one in the house, Nate wanders. There's a note left at home, obviously, but until the sun starts to set he is adrift, aimless, wandering along rolling hills with Pemota drifting ahead of him, anticipating the random footfalls that carry them into the wilderness.
She's the one who notices the irregularity in the snow first, her note of curiosity for once guiding Nate instead of the other way around. They make a silent duo as they approach down the hill, the shape making sense quickly as a familiar, confusing, welcome figure. Pemota seems to come to the same realization at the same moment and reveals them by drifting directly above Bart, turning to look down at him.
It's impossible to really describe how a creature with no real limbs communicates such a feeling of exhausted exasperation, but Pemota manages, sinking down to settle heavily on Bart's chest. And, conveniently, opening a spot for Nate to lean in, a crooked smirk spreading over his face. He half considers tormenting his little brother, and letting a dangling trail of drool hover dangerously over him, but they're not children anymore. "Whaddya doin' lyin' in the snow in smack dab nowhere, stupid?" See? Much more mature.
NATE
