sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine
"I know there's not, I just... I need something between all this shit. I need a breather. I need a week where things are quiet, where nothing happens." There's a huff, a hiss of air that's supposed to be a scoff, or a laugh, or anything other than what it is. "We haven't had that yet, y'know?" He'd hoped, distantly, in the times when he could bring himself to hope these days, that Longnight would be their chance for it, that nothing would go wrong, that the horrors of the Hollowed Grounds would stay where they belonged.
His tongue stills again at the latest tragedy, the dragon, the fucking dragon coming up again, and he's sick of it. Sick of all of it. But at least there's a sentiment he can agree with, buried in the words. It never ends. There's always some fresh horror, some new loss. The world keeps moving, no matter how much he tries to stop it for a moment.
What choice did they have?
Nate knows what the choice is here, knows that he could walk away, leave all of this behind, get fucked up on the beach all week and then run away when the portals open again. He'd always dreamed of running away, had always had too much to carry, but now?
He doesn't move, not closer, not away. That's a choice, though it feels like the wrong one, he can't just let himself move closer, not as raw and cracked open as he is, and moving away, running away, it isn't a real option. Just a dream, but he has too much to carry, too much he wants to bring with him. "I don't know." He offers, after a moment, voice still dull. His chin rises, the first shift he's made, trying to look more together, somehow. "But I told you I'm not going anywhere, didn't I?"
It sounds like a concession, and maybe it is, maybe it's a surrender, a white flag, a desperate plea for something, but at least it's not what he usually does.
His tongue stills again at the latest tragedy, the dragon, the fucking dragon coming up again, and he's sick of it. Sick of all of it. But at least there's a sentiment he can agree with, buried in the words. It never ends. There's always some fresh horror, some new loss. The world keeps moving, no matter how much he tries to stop it for a moment.
What choice did they have?
Nate knows what the choice is here, knows that he could walk away, leave all of this behind, get fucked up on the beach all week and then run away when the portals open again. He'd always dreamed of running away, had always had too much to carry, but now?
He doesn't move, not closer, not away. That's a choice, though it feels like the wrong one, he can't just let himself move closer, not as raw and cracked open as he is, and moving away, running away, it isn't a real option. Just a dream, but he has too much to carry, too much he wants to bring with him. "I don't know." He offers, after a moment, voice still dull. His chin rises, the first shift he's made, trying to look more together, somehow. "But I told you I'm not going anywhere, didn't I?"
It sounds like a concession, and maybe it is, maybe it's a surrender, a white flag, a desperate plea for something, but at least it's not what he usually does.
i couldn't get the boy to kill me
but i wore his jacket for the longest time
NATE
