[SE] Omens are for the weak

Maea

Waking from the dream
Witnessing the smoke that's rolling in

Chastisement har not been the intention, but Maea was nevertheless pleased to see the thoughts flicker across the woman's face. She didn't tell Thalassa that she had been just as upset with the gods until just a few years ago; the realization that you were not the center of the world and that no one owed you anything was a painful one best experienced alone.

Her own expression warmed when a hand reached out for hers. There was a touch of hesitation before Maea accepted it. The skin on her hand was puckered and looked like melted wax, palm hard and calloused from handling weapons and tools.
"Maea Valair. Pleasure to meet you." Looking Thal up and down, she considered. "Other Ancients seem to be gathering in the Hollowed Grounds. There is a shrine to Dygra there. If you are looking to make friends, it's as good a place to start as any."

It amused her how events had turned on their head. Recalling a time when she had to explain to Outlanders why they had been tipped frön their Worlds and brought here, it hit her how much har changed in so little time. The Voice gone, Outlanders didn't appear, and the lost and confused ones these days were somehow older than everything Maea knew and took for granted.

The end is what you fear
The scent of embers lingers in the air