with heaven on my mind, and hell, well i believe
Nate licks his lips, leaning back to look over the attuned more completely, wondering at the hesitation, the seriousness that lingers around the other man heavily. At first, the explanation seems to be as much stalling as it is anything else, though it very quickly becomes evident that it's not just that. All at once, Nate is aware of just how heavy the blade in his palm feels, imagines he can feel the coolness of it, his own skin doing nothing to warm the metal.
"That's... an intense tradition." He begins, hand shifting, slowly, almost painfully slowly, up along the other mans shoulder, around his throat, imagining the designs the other man talked about, thumb tracing swirls absently. It's... fast, if they're going to press meaning into the gesture, if he's reading the question in Sunjata's eyes properly. Does it have to mean anything? Does he want it to? They've made promises, spoken, at least a little bit, about what they want, where they're going.
There's hesitation, on both sides, but Nate moves first, letting a wide grin overtake his face. Permission, given eagerly. "What are you waiting for then?"
"That's... an intense tradition." He begins, hand shifting, slowly, almost painfully slowly, up along the other mans shoulder, around his throat, imagining the designs the other man talked about, thumb tracing swirls absently. It's... fast, if they're going to press meaning into the gesture, if he's reading the question in Sunjata's eyes properly. Does it have to mean anything? Does he want it to? They've made promises, spoken, at least a little bit, about what they want, where they're going.
There's hesitation, on both sides, but Nate moves first, letting a wide grin overtake his face. Permission, given eagerly. "What are you waiting for then?"
in the stage lights, come down, breaking over me
NATE
