Ode to the Modern Man

NATE

The Voice had given him such simple instructions, and after almost an entire season wasted, all Nate really wanted was to feel productive again. Filling every moment is far preferred to losing them entirely, and the moments easiest to fill are the ones that come late at night. Pemota insists on coming, the starwhal a near constant presence at his side the last few days, her crackling glow wreathing around Nate like a halo.

A full moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting shadows throughout the Grounds, Nate walking until he finds himself bathed in the long narrow shadow of the Spire, it's shattered form rising up before him. Everytime he see's it, Nate has to pause, filled with equal amounts of nostalgic wonder, and instinctive fear. It's so large, so alien.

Approaching it to whisk away shattered shards feels a little too much like graverobbing, keeping Nate's shoulders up, an impossible shiver creeping up his spine as he circles the base of the spire, then creeps in through the front, keeping his eyes peeled for any pieces of obsidian that stand out to him, the seem like they would be better suited to a cathedral than a wreck.

‘Cause god forbid you ever let me inside or there within
Heaven forbid you show your underbelly

EDWYN

Nate is absolutely being followed. That isn't to say that Edwyn is doing a particularly good job of it, despite the fact that he's comically creeping from tree to tree, hiding behind shrubs and at one point is even walking in Nate's footprints as if that is going to help him at all. He's quiet as all ascended are, but no doubt the doctor knows that he's not alone.

For his part, Edwyn has his face nearly buried in the notebook that he's carrying, doing his best to force out frustrated and frantic half-sketches of Nate as he moves, while at the same time trying not to trip over his own feet. So you can understand how it is the writer has come to sabotage his own efforts at being stealthy, by trying to do too much at once. If asked though, he'd say he simply couldn't help it! Dressed in midnight, the only colours the blue of his eyes and the glint of his pale skin, Nate has inspired impossible amounts of muse within Edwyn that the writer is utterly helpless to ignore.

It nearly makes his mouth water to see the man standing at the base of the broken spire, some metaphor looming large overhead as prophecy and fate stretch outward like vast fingers. Or so it goes in the writer's mind.

Underneath the storm an umbrella is saying
Sitting with the poison takes away the pain

Code taken from Sky who is utter perfection

NATE

Nate knows he’s in no danger the exact same way he knows he’s not in any danger. No one being this obvious could actually be a threat. Sure, he’d gambled and lost in the past when it came to under estimating the danger of a situation, of a stranger, but there’s a difference between not noticing sinister intent and being followed by someone who seems to think they’re in some kind of game.

Whoever this person is, whatever they want, they’re about to get a rude surprise. Nate slips into the front of the spire, stepping just deep enough into the shadows that he can’t be seen from outside, and turns on his heel, mismatched eyes glinting in the low light. When his tail appears in the doorway, Nate leans forwards, meaning to cut as imposing a figure as he can manage, his shoulders and his fists ups ”You know you’re really fucking bad at that, right?” he asks the stranger, his gaze roaming up and down the man, taking in the book, the wide eyed innocence on his face.

‘Cause god forbid you ever let me inside or there within
Heaven forbid you show your underbelly

EDWYN

Nate really is something. The shadows slide off of him like oil in water, almost beading away as if he's too black, too dark for them. As if they mean to fill in the places where light dares to brush against his coat, only to find themselves completely inadequate. Or so Edwyn's writerly-brain supplies. It's as these words dance across the page before him that Nate disappears entirely, and as the writer looks up, eyes wide with a rather naive confusion mixed with optimism, that the ascended remerges.

"Ah!" Edwyn cries predictably, holding up both hands as if he were about to be robbed. Despite the rush of fear that tingles through his biomechanics, the writer has the audacity to still look incredibly interested and fascinated, despite having been called out on his antics, and possibly being in a good deal of danger. He doesn't really know Nate after all, and Nate doesn't know him. There's every reason to think the stronger man will put an end to this research trip of Edwyn's with his raised fists.

"..er, I mean. Well..yes." Edwyn agrees, a touch bashfully. "Sorry about that. It's just..well...you looked so...so perfect I couldn't help it." Hands still raised, Edwyn twists his fingers so that the pages of the book now face Nate. Despite the lowlight the ascended will see his face sketches quickly in various profiles. Edwyn seems to have been particularly fascinated by the man's eyebrows and lashes, drawing them in dark and energetic lines. There is also a good deal of attention paid to Nate's hair, and how sometimes it's perfectly slicked back and other times pieces steal away, jutting out at exciting angles.

Underneath the storm an umbrella is saying
Sitting with the poison takes away the pain

Code taken from Sky who is utter perfection

NATE

Nate can't stop the grin that spreads over his face when his little plot works, all sharp edges and teeth, savage glee and schadenfreude. He'd feel bad if it wasn't the other man's own damn fault. It's less satisfying, as his eyes adjust properly, and he finds less panic than he would have liked there.

A brow rises at the excuse, the words tapping into a vain vein (ha) that has lain mostly dormant in Nate since his attack. It's difficult to be angry at someone describing him as perfect, especially someone who seems so utterly helpless. Nate's hand snatches out suddenly, his wedding ring a flash of shining gold as he grabs the book and pulls it from Edwyn's hands, looking over the drawing's he's done.

Try as he might to sidestep the feeling, the pictures of himself make him feel so damn self-aware, his chin lifting a touch, his hand coming up to try and smooth back his hair properly. His tongue dips out to wet his lips as a mismatched stare is levelled on the man. "You know lookin' ain't free, don't you? Drawin' costs even more." Some of the growl in his lightly accented voice is frustration, the sharper edges of it, but most of it is pure exploitation, a pair of hands suddenly here, suddenly indebted to him. Nate would be an idiot to not put them to work. The book is snapped shut with an air of finality, no choice at all presented to the other. "If you help me out though, I'll sit nice for one of these. That sound fair?"

‘Cause god forbid you ever let me inside or there within
Heaven forbid you show your underbelly

EDWYN

Edwyn flinches, though allows the book to be taken. Well, allows is a bit of a stretch; Nate is far faster and stronger, and with an obvious advantage here. It's rather like taking candy from a baby, and given the utterly naive blue stare that Edwyn offers, it rather looks a bit like it too.

"Oh! You mean—" The writer is just about to tell Nate that no, Edwyn's portraits are free. There's no reason at all for Nate to pay him, until the situation is turned quite on its head, leaving the writer looking adorably befuddled. Jumping ever so slightly as his notebook is snapped shut, Edwyn's fingers reaching out as if to soften the blow, but by then it's of course too late, he frowns, chewing on the inside of his lip. More worried for his drawings and how the pages might smudge, Edwyn reaches out to try and peel the book away from Nate, all the while nodding vigorously.

"Absolutely fair." He all but sings. Had he a standard-issue heart it might have been racing, and his cheeks might have been flushed. Without those things, the ascended merely looks slightly awkward and out of place in this bizarre situation, but willing as anyone might be to help out.

Underneath the storm an umbrella is saying
Sitting with the poison takes away the pain

Code taken from Sky who is utter perfection

NATE

It’s been obvious this entire time, but finally, Nate seems to fully accept that Edwyn is no danger to him. Not by himself, at least. Shoulders lower just a touch, all kind of tension bleeding out of Nate in favour of a smug assurance instead, unblinking stare and Cheshire grin locked on his attempted stalker.

Heedless of Edwyn’s reaching hands, Nate tucks the book away safely into some hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket, his free hand reaching out to pat the others cheek. ”Good man.” The flash of smile is sharper still than any he’s offered so far, though it makes up for it with a touch more warmth. It’s nice, even if the amusement offered is utterly at Edwyn’s expense.

Picking his way deeper into the ground floor of the spire, Nate simply assumes the other man is following him. ”You know there’s better ways to go about following someone, especially if you don’t wanna get caught. Arms up.” The warning comes as Nate heaves a thin slab of obsidian up, meaning to deposit it into Edwyn’s (hopefully) waiting arms.

The doctor is far chattier, now that he feels like he has the upper hand again, a kind of blasé arrogance overtaking his features. ”Unless getting caught is part of it. You one of those types? No judgement.” A knowing look is levelled across at Edwyn, a wide grin on Nate’s face now. He wants to see where this mans buttons are, how easy they are to push.

‘Cause god forbid you ever let me inside or there within
Heaven forbid you show your underbelly

EDWYN

As Nate relaxes, Edwyn offers a smile that coats his entire expression in something sticky and sweet, as if he's the one who is relieved that he hasn't riled or otherwise offended the other man too much. Though as his book is tucked away and his cheek patted like he's some misbehaving puppy, the writer frowns softly, blue eyes large and confused. He doesn't argue though, and the stupidly willing look on his face suggests that he thinks Nate somehow knows what's best. For him, for his book, for whatever is about to happen.

Follow him he does, though it's after a moment or two once he realizes that Nate isn't going to remerge from the darkness and that he was likely meant to follow along. At the instruction, Edwyn raises his arms into the air. Straight into the air. Clumsily flailing to try and reach for the stone as it's pressed against his stomach (his neat white shirt becoming hopelessly dirty in the process), he flashes Nate an apologetic grin for his misunderstanding. "Yes...Yes you're probably right. Though this hasn't turned out so bad, has it?" Edwyn smiles, adjusting the obsidian in his arms.

"Oh..no. I'm not. Or at least, I don't think I am?" The subtext is clear, and it isn't the sexual assumption that he trips over, just a lack of opportunity to find out. "I must admit things were unfortunately quite...vanilla, I think is the term, back when such things were on my mind."

As for buttons? Well. That's the thing about someone who is hopelessly able and willing to bend to every situation in which they find themselves. It's rather hard to find something to poke, that won't just immediately yeild.

Underneath the storm an umbrella is saying
Sitting with the poison takes away the pain

Code taken from Sky who is utter perfection

NATE

A huff of laughter leaves Nate, this stranger working his way into the doctor's good graces in record time, despite the rocky beginning. Really, all he has to do is listen, and he's performing like a champ. "Well, considering I now don't have to do this alone, I'd say it's working out real well for me. Wouldn't you, uh..." Nate snaps his fingers, pointing at Edwyn as his brow furrows. "Fuck, I didn't get your name, did I?" Obviously though he rather obviously keeps his own to himself, for at least a moment longer. Call it curiosity, call it manipulation, call it whatever you wanted.

"You don't... think you are?" Skepticism drips off the words, another long shard of obsidian balanced in Edwyn's arms. It doesn't quite cross Nate's face yet though, doesn't displace the naked curiosity narrowing his eyes. "What, you haven't tried those teeth out yet?" The grin on his face widens, showing off the same sharp teeth he's caught flashes of in the other man's mouth. "You're missing out."

Teasing is only fun if there's a reaction, a proper reaction, and as Edwyn is, Nate finds himself growing bored of it quickly, his curiosity rising up again. "So... your whole plan is just to follow me around? Okay then." A third piece of obsidian is lifted and deposited, the doctor letting his hands rest on top of the short pile sitting in Edwyn's arms, effectively rooting the man in place so Nate can stare at him, awaiting the answer.

It’s a strange encounter, but at least it gets the easiest part of his quest done, obsidian gathered up and ready to be made into a shrine. And he’s even met another member of the family. Two wins, as far as he’s concerned.

Done~

‘Cause god forbid you ever let me inside or there within
Heaven forbid you show your underbelly