The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
She chuckles at that. ”She seemed like the kind of girl who made sure all her i’s were dotted. Well, the i’s she cared about, at any rate.” Not that she knew Maea well, and yet, even from beyond the grave she’d managed to get them all messages. Including Sunjata, even if Delphia was holding it hostage, though Weaver suspects the letter may help make up for it. It just seemed like the type of thing Maea would have done for him. After all, she’d made sure Weaver got the notebook of recipes, despite the fact they’d only ever talked about it once. Every i, dotted.
An eyebrow raises at this last statement, and she gives him a skeptical look. ”You are giving yourself a lot of credit there, Sunjata. She was her own woman.” Weaver’s voice is a little wry, a little amused, recalling her last conversation with Maea. ”It would be just as easy for me to say it was my fault. Last time we spoke, she told me she’d been feeling restless, like there was an itch in her blood. I told her to do what she needed to do, as long as she wasn’t an idiot. I am sure she wasn’t an idiot, and that she did what she needed to do.” She pauses. Perhaps Weaver had given Maea the permission she had needed, or perhaps Maea hadn’t been looking for permission at all. Perhaps she would have done it, no matter what.
”I don’t know if I could have said anything that would have made a difference. I don’t know if different actions on your part would have changed her mind. Maybe, or maybe not. But in the end, she made her own choice and it is no one’s fault.” She removes her hand, leaning back and picking up a drink to take a sip of it. ”Everyone leaves, but tell me, isn’t it better to have gotten the chance to love them rather than to never have known them at all?” Luesa. Erebor. Maea. She’d take what time she could have.
An eyebrow raises at this last statement, and she gives him a skeptical look. ”You are giving yourself a lot of credit there, Sunjata. She was her own woman.” Weaver’s voice is a little wry, a little amused, recalling her last conversation with Maea. ”It would be just as easy for me to say it was my fault. Last time we spoke, she told me she’d been feeling restless, like there was an itch in her blood. I told her to do what she needed to do, as long as she wasn’t an idiot. I am sure she wasn’t an idiot, and that she did what she needed to do.” She pauses. Perhaps Weaver had given Maea the permission she had needed, or perhaps Maea hadn’t been looking for permission at all. Perhaps she would have done it, no matter what.
”I don’t know if I could have said anything that would have made a difference. I don’t know if different actions on your part would have changed her mind. Maybe, or maybe not. But in the end, she made her own choice and it is no one’s fault.” She removes her hand, leaning back and picking up a drink to take a sip of it. ”Everyone leaves, but tell me, isn’t it better to have gotten the chance to love them rather than to never have known them at all?” Luesa. Erebor. Maea. She’d take what time she could have.
Weaver
