Thoughts of pumpkin guts and spider legs have disappeared from Mateo's mind, the boy thoughtfully chewing on more berries and picking them out of his mouth to put them on the napkin as he goes. He shifts somewhat uncomfortably against the rocky outcrop where they've made themselves at home, and he rakes a hand through his curls and doesn't quite look at Ever. "No, no! It's fine," he mumbles.
Having never really felt like this (not often enough for it to feel like a familiar emotion, anyway), Mateo lets out a long breath through puffed out cheeks, avoiding looking at his friend. "I don't really like being an Accepted," he admits. "But I don't really want to be anything else either. I just... wish I didn't have to channel."
Having never really felt like this (not often enough for it to feel like a familiar emotion, anyway), Mateo lets out a long breath through puffed out cheeks, avoiding looking at his friend. "I don't really like being an Accepted," he admits. "But I don't really want to be anything else either. I just... wish I didn't have to channel."
