- NATE -
do you feel at home? your flames are burning higher
your circumstance is dire, don't panic. you're frantic
your circumstance is dire, don't panic. you're frantic
Dancing. Just dancing. No trickery, no fire, no sizzling, burning blades. Nate feels himself relax, feels his shoulders drop and a breath he never would have noticed he was holding in leave him. Perhaps it is another avenue for threats and danger, perhaps if the story were real, if the fae were the ones who inhabited this world, but Melita is the master of fates for this tale. It will be nice.
Nate squeezes his nieces hand, brow furrowed while he thought, considered his words more carefully than he had before. ”I... like to dance.” Oh, but he wouldn’t be invited, would he? Not being what he was. A disappointed huff leaves his nose, and then he’s speaking again, prodding for more. ”What happens next?” If he could not be invited, then he could live vicariously through the story. Almost as soon as the words leave him, Nate begins to hum, a soft slow song, the kind that closes out a night, at the kinds of parties his grandparents threw.
Nate squeezes his nieces hand, brow furrowed while he thought, considered his words more carefully than he had before. ”I... like to dance.” Oh, but he wouldn’t be invited, would he? Not being what he was. A disappointed huff leaves his nose, and then he’s speaking again, prodding for more. ”What happens next?” If he could not be invited, then he could live vicariously through the story. Almost as soon as the words leave him, Nate begins to hum, a soft slow song, the kind that closes out a night, at the kinds of parties his grandparents threw.
this is your hell, dancing for something that was
true to you, how do you do? say it's me.
true to you, how do you do? say it's me.
