sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine
There is precious little in these woods for Nate to be concerned about, and that includes dying fire smoke or footsteps slipping through the powdery snow towards him. Though the latter is a surprise, a strangeness that piques his senses, the distance dropping away from his gaze as he returns to the woodlands, the tree.
The voice that calls out to him is hoarse and unfamiliar, but if it’s owner is observant she will see the way every part of Nate tenses, just minutely, ready to flee or fight. No matter his inner turmoil, he is still a predator, still more than willing to defend himself, if need be. He just doesn’t really expect to need to, not here.
It takes a long moment for cold blue eyes to turn towards the shaman, and if Nate finds anything surprising about her appearance he doesn’t let it show on his face. Nothing more than a vague suspicion tugs on his scarred features. His gaze lingers for a long moment, unblinking the entire time, before returning to the horizon. “Nah.” He offers, rolling a shoulder in a shrug that’s only made apparently by the sound of his coat scraping against the tree. “They had their chance, they missed it.”
It seems for a moment that he’s going to leave it at that, but his fingers drum against his knee and his jaw works, belying some restless urge to speak, even with a skull clad stranger. Nate’s tongue precedes his words this time, dipping out to wet his lips, the shine adding some life to his scarred face. “I’m waiting. Or… hoping, I guess.” He turns his head again, brows furrowing and twisting the scar smashed across the bridge of his nose, his left eye. “Whats with the deer?”
The voice that calls out to him is hoarse and unfamiliar, but if it’s owner is observant she will see the way every part of Nate tenses, just minutely, ready to flee or fight. No matter his inner turmoil, he is still a predator, still more than willing to defend himself, if need be. He just doesn’t really expect to need to, not here.
It takes a long moment for cold blue eyes to turn towards the shaman, and if Nate finds anything surprising about her appearance he doesn’t let it show on his face. Nothing more than a vague suspicion tugs on his scarred features. His gaze lingers for a long moment, unblinking the entire time, before returning to the horizon. “Nah.” He offers, rolling a shoulder in a shrug that’s only made apparently by the sound of his coat scraping against the tree. “They had their chance, they missed it.”
It seems for a moment that he’s going to leave it at that, but his fingers drum against his knee and his jaw works, belying some restless urge to speak, even with a skull clad stranger. Nate’s tongue precedes his words this time, dipping out to wet his lips, the shine adding some life to his scarred face. “I’m waiting. Or… hoping, I guess.” He turns his head again, brows furrowing and twisting the scar smashed across the bridge of his nose, his left eye. “Whats with the deer?”
i couldn't get the boy to kill me
but i wore his jacket for the longest time
NATE
