and anyone who knows our name says that we ain't ever gonna change
they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
they say we're born to die young, but we're trying to find a better way
”What’s wrong with me?!” The words are hissed, a sharp inhale punctuating the disbelief. For the moment Nate had the upper hand, a moment long enough to snarl while he leaned in. ”You ignore me in that fucking cathedral, and now you don’t leave me alone?” where else could a shade have come from, if not that deep void?
The chance to bite, to steal the power of his enemy never came, not as the Hali bucked and shoved at him, Nate surprisingly easy to displace, but stubborn enough to not be shaken off entirely. Water solves that problem, though perhaps not in the way the cook expected. As soon as those hateful tendrils touch him, and understanding dawns on him, Nate throws himself away, horrified.
As if on reflex, a change sweeps painfully over him, scales appearing over the parts of him that are visible, before a leathery wing wraps around him, trying to cut off the flow of water. After a moment spent on the defensive, Nate struggles to his feet again, wings too big for his half shifted form spreading wide. It’s almost impossible to tell which blue is brighter, his single wide, slitted eye, or the growing glow in the back of his throat, neighing with it the scent of ozone.
The chance to bite, to steal the power of his enemy never came, not as the Hali bucked and shoved at him, Nate surprisingly easy to displace, but stubborn enough to not be shaken off entirely. Water solves that problem, though perhaps not in the way the cook expected. As soon as those hateful tendrils touch him, and understanding dawns on him, Nate throws himself away, horrified.
As if on reflex, a change sweeps painfully over him, scales appearing over the parts of him that are visible, before a leathery wing wraps around him, trying to cut off the flow of water. After a moment spent on the defensive, Nate struggles to his feet again, wings too big for his half shifted form spreading wide. It’s almost impossible to tell which blue is brighter, his single wide, slitted eye, or the growing glow in the back of his throat, neighing with it the scent of ozone.
NATE
