yikes // yikes // yikes // yikes // yikes // yikes // yikes
Wessex takes the prime spot against the wall, but Nate trusts her enough, trusts that she’s who he thinks she is, who she thinks she is. They’re shrouded in darkness in this corner, but instead of paranoia, it brings a kind of comfort, the illusion of security. The ascended matriarch won’t let anything creep up on him, on them.
Instead of focusing out on the room, Nate locks his eye on Wessex. ”Thats a lot of things.” It’s a compliment, as much as it’s nothing at all. ”Queen thing?” It’s the one thing he has the chance to actually question, before she talks about the metal, and Nate’s face twists into a mask of rage.
”Loren.” Teeth gnash around the name, as if his anger was anything but impotent. ”We tried, talked to Her, then to him,” more snarling, more gnashing, ”but... no metal.” Nate doesn’t even have some small victory to fall back on, defeat slumping his shoulders.
Instead of focusing out on the room, Nate locks his eye on Wessex. ”Thats a lot of things.” It’s a compliment, as much as it’s nothing at all. ”Queen thing?” It’s the one thing he has the chance to actually question, before she talks about the metal, and Nate’s face twists into a mask of rage.
”Loren.” Teeth gnash around the name, as if his anger was anything but impotent. ”We tried, talked to Her, then to him,” more snarling, more gnashing, ”but... no metal.” Nate doesn’t even have some small victory to fall back on, defeat slumping his shoulders.
NATE
