fight, because you don't know how to die quietly
Nate’s sarcastic comment is met with a fanged smirk of amusement. One that remains even when the question is aired, raised into the air around them as if it meant something. “Our family, then. If you’re gonna be so nitpicky about it, kid.” He passes by it quickly, still unsure how he’s about to fit into all of it, but he’d manage. He always does. Adaptable and quick, once he’s got his feet under him, and now that he’s back from his stasis and his mind can start to wrap around everything? He plans on working at it quickly.
He steps out of Nate’s space but still manages to raise a brow back at the tall fuck, hearing the mutter but deciding against responding to it. After all, there’s the idea of a metal arm blossoming in his mind and he’s absolutely planning on following through with it.
Varus walks a small half circle around Nate’s… Voice, moon, shrine thing, gaze dancing between it and the starry sky, before falling back on Nate. “Got it fucking shredded to shit in the war.” He says point blank. “Lost too much fluid, started to shut down, got fucking stuck under a shitty hedge in Queen’s Gambit.” He stops his slow vulture-like circle, when he’s rounded back at Nate – staring up at him with a hint more seriousness than before. “Woke up and would you look at that? It’s been three hundred years and we fuckin’ lost, just in time for another.” His head tilts a bit, bright blues boring into Nate. “Wessex found me and brought me back to the Grounds and Isla took it off.” He reaches over to pull the collar of his shirt down to show the precise and perfect stitches that are likely only temporary until the Voice can help him out.
He steps out of Nate’s space but still manages to raise a brow back at the tall fuck, hearing the mutter but deciding against responding to it. After all, there’s the idea of a metal arm blossoming in his mind and he’s absolutely planning on following through with it.
Varus walks a small half circle around Nate’s… Voice, moon, shrine thing, gaze dancing between it and the starry sky, before falling back on Nate. “Got it fucking shredded to shit in the war.” He says point blank. “Lost too much fluid, started to shut down, got fucking stuck under a shitty hedge in Queen’s Gambit.” He stops his slow vulture-like circle, when he’s rounded back at Nate – staring up at him with a hint more seriousness than before. “Woke up and would you look at that? It’s been three hundred years and we fuckin’ lost, just in time for another.” His head tilts a bit, bright blues boring into Nate. “Wessex found me and brought me back to the Grounds and Isla took it off.” He reaches over to pull the collar of his shirt down to show the precise and perfect stitches that are likely only temporary until the Voice can help him out.
VARUS
