just put down the bottle, don't listen to what you've consumed
There is some deep pet of Nate that flinches away from the image drifting towards him, not in fear, but in sympathy. Mirrors are something he understands. While the initial shudder is hidden, the ripples of it are not. I’m right here. No ones getting past me. His voice is a fierce, protective growl, all of the anxiety in him aimed towards this single target.
A target that is fake, that is simply a manifestation of a bored deity. If Nate doesn’t remind himself of that periodically, he’ll start believing in it too. But he does believe Sunjata has seen something, and that’s cause enough for concern.
Nate’s hand is a steady pressure around his husbands, cool fingers interlocking with the attuned’s trembling ones. He watches Sunjata watch the bottle with a laser focus, only blinking when he pulls it away, the newly freed hand coming up to rub his inked shoulder, fingers slipping to just barely ghost over the edges of the bruising, the cool touch far too little too late.
That intense focus returns once Sunjata has had time to recover from the ordeal of drinking. An answer comes, too quickly for Nate to feel good about it, but too desperately for him to decline. The touch at Sunjata’s shoulders moves away again, this time to that jar, the lid coming undone with some work. A single finger sweeps every bit of powder out of it, before lifting to Sunjata’s lips. Tip your head back A request that is only going to be slightly less painful than what comes after it. A finger presses between the attuned’s teeth in a quick motion, trying to get the powder under his tongue. Try to not swallow or taste that.
A target that is fake, that is simply a manifestation of a bored deity. If Nate doesn’t remind himself of that periodically, he’ll start believing in it too. But he does believe Sunjata has seen something, and that’s cause enough for concern.
Nate’s hand is a steady pressure around his husbands, cool fingers interlocking with the attuned’s trembling ones. He watches Sunjata watch the bottle with a laser focus, only blinking when he pulls it away, the newly freed hand coming up to rub his inked shoulder, fingers slipping to just barely ghost over the edges of the bruising, the cool touch far too little too late.
That intense focus returns once Sunjata has had time to recover from the ordeal of drinking. An answer comes, too quickly for Nate to feel good about it, but too desperately for him to decline. The touch at Sunjata’s shoulders moves away again, this time to that jar, the lid coming undone with some work. A single finger sweeps every bit of powder out of it, before lifting to Sunjata’s lips. Tip your head back A request that is only going to be slightly less painful than what comes after it. A finger presses between the attuned’s teeth in a quick motion, trying to get the powder under his tongue. Try to not swallow or taste that.
it's chaos, confusion, and wholly unworthy
of feeding and it's wholly untrue
NATE
