- NATE -
but who am I to say?
let's all just run away
let's all just run away
"I wasn't going to just assume I'd be allowed in your bed." Nate quips back, playing at innocence, his face and his tone lightening when the face that turns to him is no longer hard, or blank. There's amusement, and even if it's just hiding things it's leagues better than before. "Though now that you've offered, I'm sure we can mess it up with worse than feathers." The laugh accompanies this is a little more human sounding, a little easier when the jokes are easing things for the both of them.
As the attuned pulls away from him more, pulling his shirt off as he go, Nate pauses, watching with a raised brow, though the expressions shifts from appreciative to mildly concerned in moments. How long had it been since he's seen the other mans body, a few months? And already there's so many more scars, so much more evidence of stupid things, moments where he could have been lost, and a petty part of Nate wants to point that out, throw it up as a final a-ha! But this isn't an argument he's trying to win, isn't a screaming match in the middle of the street, and all he does instead is reach out, hands closing over shoulders, over feathers, fingers outstretched so a thumb can run over the new half moon of scars, then slip down, over bruises and yet more scars from god only knows what. Nate sighs, more the motion than the sound, and leans in to press his forehead between shoulder blades, between the inked wings.
It's not a long moment, but it's present, heavy with meaning. Then, like it hadn't even happened, Nate is pulling away, pulling his own ash stained clothes off and dropping them without care. He reaches an arm past Sunjata, into the water, then hums and steps under the stream. There's scars on his body, less obvious with how pale they are, how pale he is, but they're all old, in comparison to the mess on the attuned's skin. Something that looks like a burn, long and shiny, wrapping around a thigh, marks that might be from a blade, but could just as easily be from anything else, dug in around his hip, the softness of his stomach.
It isn't long before Nate decides the water is probably fine, and drags Sunjata in, pausing only to let the other man remove the rest of his clothes. Showering with them on is a little too cliche for a breakdown, and it won't do anything to help with the emotions anyway. But beyond that, he doesn't care if Sunjata wants to stand, or sit and rest his tired body, let the water, and Nate, do most of the work.
"You know," He begins, hands moving in slow, wide sweeps across the both of them, "there was a point, when we were... trying to get people onto the beach, and get them to stop panicking, where I lost you." Nate's eyes are downcast, looking at anything but the other mans face. "I thought... I don't fucking know, but if you were gone, I... fuck, I don't think I'd have been able to do anything."
As the attuned pulls away from him more, pulling his shirt off as he go, Nate pauses, watching with a raised brow, though the expressions shifts from appreciative to mildly concerned in moments. How long had it been since he's seen the other mans body, a few months? And already there's so many more scars, so much more evidence of stupid things, moments where he could have been lost, and a petty part of Nate wants to point that out, throw it up as a final a-ha! But this isn't an argument he's trying to win, isn't a screaming match in the middle of the street, and all he does instead is reach out, hands closing over shoulders, over feathers, fingers outstretched so a thumb can run over the new half moon of scars, then slip down, over bruises and yet more scars from god only knows what. Nate sighs, more the motion than the sound, and leans in to press his forehead between shoulder blades, between the inked wings.
It's not a long moment, but it's present, heavy with meaning. Then, like it hadn't even happened, Nate is pulling away, pulling his own ash stained clothes off and dropping them without care. He reaches an arm past Sunjata, into the water, then hums and steps under the stream. There's scars on his body, less obvious with how pale they are, how pale he is, but they're all old, in comparison to the mess on the attuned's skin. Something that looks like a burn, long and shiny, wrapping around a thigh, marks that might be from a blade, but could just as easily be from anything else, dug in around his hip, the softness of his stomach.
It isn't long before Nate decides the water is probably fine, and drags Sunjata in, pausing only to let the other man remove the rest of his clothes. Showering with them on is a little too cliche for a breakdown, and it won't do anything to help with the emotions anyway. But beyond that, he doesn't care if Sunjata wants to stand, or sit and rest his tired body, let the water, and Nate, do most of the work.
"You know," He begins, hands moving in slow, wide sweeps across the both of them, "there was a point, when we were... trying to get people onto the beach, and get them to stop panicking, where I lost you." Nate's eyes are downcast, looking at anything but the other mans face. "I thought... I don't fucking know, but if you were gone, I... fuck, I don't think I'd have been able to do anything."
grab your saints and pray
and we'll burn this world today
and we'll burn this world today
