just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
A cool hand runs back along Sunjata’s spine, fingers dragging through fur while it’s there, the whine that leaves the attuned making them tremble, stumble in their motion. He’s not the one that needs soothing, not the one in pain, something Nate tries to remind himself of. Worried eyes watch every step of the shift, though they hesitate to actually meet the steel that matches one of them. There’s no such hesitation in Nate’s hand, which wraps tightly around Sunjata’s. Squeeze when it hurts. A genuine offer, wrapped up in soemthing that’s trying very hard to be a joke.
Nate dips down to press his lips against the head that rests against his chest, both hands too busy to wrap around the attuned, no matter how he wishes he could. One still squeezes Sunjata’s hand, while the other fumbles with the first aid kit, the little jar he’d grabbed. The silent words have him pausing, just for a moment, understanding washing through him, though it does nothing to alleviate the guilt. ”Its just the season.” Nate offers softly into the the short crop of hair under his lips. Out loud, if only because it’s easier to pretend he’s certain this way, years of keeping worries and truth bottled up aiding him now. Never mind the throbbing uncertainty in his head, a dark oily feeling he can’t quite fully contain.
Leaning away, Nate takes both his hands back just long enough to fashion a loose bandage around Sunjata’s head, tight enough to keep his jaw still, but not so tight he can’t open his mouth. Immediately, one hand returns to the attuned, while the other fights with the bottle he’d brought up, Nate forgoing a glass to instead lift it directly to his husbands lips, offering him as many small sips as he wants. Try to only swallow a little bit at a time, don’t move more than you have to. When Sunjata’s had his fill, the bottle is set (not so) safely on the floor, out of reach for the moment. I have something else that might help too, but... there’s side effects.
Nate dips down to press his lips against the head that rests against his chest, both hands too busy to wrap around the attuned, no matter how he wishes he could. One still squeezes Sunjata’s hand, while the other fumbles with the first aid kit, the little jar he’d grabbed. The silent words have him pausing, just for a moment, understanding washing through him, though it does nothing to alleviate the guilt. ”Its just the season.” Nate offers softly into the the short crop of hair under his lips. Out loud, if only because it’s easier to pretend he’s certain this way, years of keeping worries and truth bottled up aiding him now. Never mind the throbbing uncertainty in his head, a dark oily feeling he can’t quite fully contain.
Leaning away, Nate takes both his hands back just long enough to fashion a loose bandage around Sunjata’s head, tight enough to keep his jaw still, but not so tight he can’t open his mouth. Immediately, one hand returns to the attuned, while the other fights with the bottle he’d brought up, Nate forgoing a glass to instead lift it directly to his husbands lips, offering him as many small sips as he wants. Try to only swallow a little bit at a time, don’t move more than you have to. When Sunjata’s had his fill, the bottle is set (not so) safely on the floor, out of reach for the moment. I have something else that might help too, but... there’s side effects.
it's chaos, confusion, and wholly unworthy
of feeding and it's wholly untrue
NATE
