- NATE -
all we are, we're distant stars
lost in the dark, i know how to part
lost in the dark, i know how to part
Its been a bit of a learning curve, having to bundle up in Halo. Most everything Nate has on was either stolen borrowed from his husband, or hastily gathered their first trip through Halo, trades made here and there for gloves, a warm hat, some boots. This has to be the best prepared he’s been for the weather in a long time, and it’s still only does so much, Nate’s mind retreating into the warm centre of himself, hand wrapped into Sunjata’s to ensure he doesn’t get lost.
It takes a moment for him to emerge, when Sunjata tugs him close, starts speaking. A slow grin spreads over Nate’s face, comprehension taking it’s sweet time to dawn. ”Really?” Its something that almost sounds familiar, though Nate can’t remember the conversation before, and accepts it easily as a new fact. ”You never did any snow stuff as a kid?” They drift apart, Nate standing near the edge of the field, only following so far without direct guidance.
Wheels in his head are chugging so intensely it’s a wonder there isn’t steam streaming from his ears, but slowly, painfully slowly, an idea occurs to Nate. ”Bart and I... we made forts, when we were little. There was a uh... parking lot, across the street, and we ruled it.” Casually, Nate bends over, nearly leaning too far and tipping. He manages to stay upright though, grabs a generous handful of snow, and begins shaping it absently, his distant blue gaze on the attuned. ”He built the best forts, no one could get us. And I...” Giddy joy enters Nate’s voice, his loosely packed snowball flying at his husband as he shouts the last part. ”I made the snowballs!”
It takes a moment for him to emerge, when Sunjata tugs him close, starts speaking. A slow grin spreads over Nate’s face, comprehension taking it’s sweet time to dawn. ”Really?” Its something that almost sounds familiar, though Nate can’t remember the conversation before, and accepts it easily as a new fact. ”You never did any snow stuff as a kid?” They drift apart, Nate standing near the edge of the field, only following so far without direct guidance.
Wheels in his head are chugging so intensely it’s a wonder there isn’t steam streaming from his ears, but slowly, painfully slowly, an idea occurs to Nate. ”Bart and I... we made forts, when we were little. There was a uh... parking lot, across the street, and we ruled it.” Casually, Nate bends over, nearly leaning too far and tipping. He manages to stay upright though, grabs a generous handful of snow, and begins shaping it absently, his distant blue gaze on the attuned. ”He built the best forts, no one could get us. And I...” Giddy joy enters Nate’s voice, his loosely packed snowball flying at his husband as he shouts the last part. ”I made the snowballs!”
searching high and low for life
a paradise, a light in your eyes
a paradise, a light in your eyes
