Maea
Waking from the dream
Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
The steady gaze lingering upon the fellow Ancient carried little in the way of sentiment. Void of color save for the barest hint of lavender, the eyes were as strange and different as the rest of the petite woman and it was difficult to read her expression. Absorbing details, the way the person looked to the sky, how anger kept boiling up to the surface to color her tone and tension, Maea found herself feeling old and weary. Had she not held similar sentiments, not so very long ago? Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in
She allowed silence to settle back over the woods. Watching the candles flicker and bob in faint currents of wind, she let pale hands marred eith burn scars find their way into the safety of deep pockets, hidden from view. "The spirits do not speak for the gods," she replied eventually, voice naturally quiet and soft, like mist in the night. "I take it you were cursed? Yes? Well. It happens to the best of us; that has nothing to do with divine care - or lack of care. If it makes you feel better, I prayed for over twenty years before even a spirit deigned to take notice." Her half smile was a wry thing, lopsided and unamused. "Until they do... perhaps you could allow yourself a detour? Take the time to learn something new that you would never have considered if not for the curse."
Not what anyone wanted to hear, Maea knew, but it was the best piece of advice she could think of in the moment. It was a bit hypocritical, since she chafed at restrictions herself, but perhaps this person could do more with the lot she was given than Maea ever had.
The end is what you fear
The scent of embers lingers in the air
The scent of embers lingers in the air
