#the wrong year

Sing me some eidolon

and I'll sleep all the winter long

'Til then I can only be

To say Nate woke up not feeling himself was an understatement. He felt the same, but different. The hunger still gnawed at him day and night, but his face was weathered by years he’d never seen, years he never would see. Streaks of silver peppered his ordinarily black locks. The architect paced around his apartment, wearing a new path into the floor, his eyes darting to the toaster’s reflection every time he passed.

There were still no mirrors in his place, but that hadn’t stopped him from being able to see what was different, to feel it. He looked just like his dad and it was more than a little terrifying. Nate had finally come to terms with the fact that he would never get to grow old, and here he was, instantly older, without even trying. As if he hadn’t thought living in Ashkent was making him insane enough…

But he didn’t have time to think about his face or his skin or his hair. Haley was supposed to start at the office today, and he’d barely had time to tell Bobby to get the place put together. Karla had been missing for weeks now, and it was looking more and more likely that she had just run away, but that didn’t put Nate more at ease. Unfortunately, that was one of the lesser of his problems.