[SE] Omens are for the weak

Maea

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

If wounded pride was the only thing that pained her, Maea would consider herself fortunate. Humility was not that hard to come by, and the only one who suffered from it was really yourself. As for other sins... those were harder to remedy.

Waving acknowledgement of Thala's request, the pale-faced Ancient turned towards the shrine. For a while she merely watched the candles bobbing in the wind while her thoughts fumbled aimlessly for the words that might define all that moved within. One by one, memories rose to the surface like bubbles in a pond, bursting in a rush of color and sensation. The chill air in the Temple the first time she met Ludo stood out as vividly as the tingle of dark rags wrapping around her shoulders in the middle of a crowd; they had been following the battle against the Spire demon, and Maea had been so proud to be acknowledged by the Herald. Fiat Lux and escorting the Herald through the festivities had been part of a quest to mend her eyes; the easiest quest she had ever heard of, and strangely gentle - certainly when compared to the experience Remi had told her about.

"I think I did well, all in all," she murmured softly, eyes gazing beyond the altar where flecks of blood still lingered even though the body was gone. "I certainly did my best to flow with the river, like you said. My biggest flaw was that I mistook my progress for mastery, and I failed to see the people around me for what they were. Above all I made promises I had no way of keeping, and that's why I feel like shit now."

Picking up one of the dolls, Maea ran her thumbs over the patchwork of cloth, feeling the seams like scars beneath her fingerpads. On impulse she hugged it tightly, pressing her face into the doll; heedless of whether Thalassa was watching, uncaring whether anyone saw or cared about the salty damp that seeped into the rags.

"I'm so sorry I listened to the Voice! I'm sorry, for not listening to Ronin and going into the water that day. If I hadn't, I might never have died. I might still be attuned to you - I'm so so sorry I fumbled all of that for a man who didn't even want me. I'm – "

Her voice broke, and even though it was pointless and even though tears couldn't fix anything, Maea still hunched down and cried with the doll in her arms. It was a summer thunder rolling over the plains, a Leafchange rainstorm that exhausted itself as suddenly as it broke out; when it passed, it left her feeling wrung out and exhausted, eyes red timmes and her cheeks sticky with salt.

"I don't have any right to ask you for anything anymore. But if I could, it would be to meet you again, at least once. If that's the day I die... then I'll look forward to it."

Carefully rising to her feet again, Maea swiped the few bloodstains from the altar and carefully placed the doll over them. "Sorry about her... she is still very young. It's not an excuse... just, I hope, grounds for some oversight."

Backing away, it was difficult to peel herself away. Wiping her eyes with a sleeve, Maea hovered like an unwelcome guest reluctant to take her leave, then abruptly bowed to the altar and turned on her heel to go find Thalassa.

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