Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
"You did," she agreed softly. Glanced at him, and thought he looked rather proud of himself. For all that she'd said she would prefer for him to let it loose... Maea was glad he hadn't. Perhaps the suggestion that she was ready to face it had helped? At the very least, she thought it might have saved them this time. If he hadn't listened to her, been able to acknowledge that she was more scared than angry... They might not be sitting here now. Trying.
He perched on the table. It must be a sturdy one, to bear his weight after so many years of neglect. Definitely a keeper, she thought, absently, not sure if she meant the man or the furniture. Perhaps both.
"I'm so used to not feeling anything that, now that I do? I get drunk on everything," Maea reflected. Her face was heating, color flushing from her cheeks and down the neck, the warmth from the wine making her head buzz plesantly. It certainly loosened her tongue; she took another swallow and put her head down on her outstretched arms. Staring at a ray of light cast in through an overgrown window. "Before I met you, before I met any outlanders, I was so numb. Woke up, ate, worked until my bones ached, then slept. Got sick, laid in bed and stared into the wall, waiting for it to pass... then up again, to work. There was nothing else. No hope, nothing to dream about. I went to the shrines every day, praying for a sign that there was more to life than waiting for it to end, but... it never came. Not to me, anyway.
"Then the Spark Bird landed on the perch, for the first time in living memory, and it just... it felt like I'd walked into a dream. I... still wait for it to end. I keep thinking, that I'm gonna have to wake up soon. That nothing as colorful as this, nothing as vibrant, can be real."
And now? A dream within a dream. There was a man sitting on the table beside her, claiming he wanted to build this house for them both to live in. Claiming he loved her, that she was all he ever needed. But how could that be real? How could any of it be?
"I'm thinking... that I'm waiting for the cost of all this to come calling," she almost whispered, some deep dread half choking her voice. Reaching out, she touched his arm. Just to make sure he wasn't actually an illusion. "If seeing the Spark Bird and allowing myself to dream cost me my family... if daring to see the outside world cost me a year of my life spent in limbo... what is this going to cost me? There's always a price to pay, for everything. If I'm this happy now... how bad will it be when the next thing breaks?"
He perched on the table. It must be a sturdy one, to bear his weight after so many years of neglect. Definitely a keeper, she thought, absently, not sure if she meant the man or the furniture. Perhaps both.
"I'm so used to not feeling anything that, now that I do? I get drunk on everything," Maea reflected. Her face was heating, color flushing from her cheeks and down the neck, the warmth from the wine making her head buzz plesantly. It certainly loosened her tongue; she took another swallow and put her head down on her outstretched arms. Staring at a ray of light cast in through an overgrown window. "Before I met you, before I met any outlanders, I was so numb. Woke up, ate, worked until my bones ached, then slept. Got sick, laid in bed and stared into the wall, waiting for it to pass... then up again, to work. There was nothing else. No hope, nothing to dream about. I went to the shrines every day, praying for a sign that there was more to life than waiting for it to end, but... it never came. Not to me, anyway.
"Then the Spark Bird landed on the perch, for the first time in living memory, and it just... it felt like I'd walked into a dream. I... still wait for it to end. I keep thinking, that I'm gonna have to wake up soon. That nothing as colorful as this, nothing as vibrant, can be real."
And now? A dream within a dream. There was a man sitting on the table beside her, claiming he wanted to build this house for them both to live in. Claiming he loved her, that she was all he ever needed. But how could that be real? How could any of it be?
"I'm thinking... that I'm waiting for the cost of all this to come calling," she almost whispered, some deep dread half choking her voice. Reaching out, she touched his arm. Just to make sure he wasn't actually an illusion. "If seeing the Spark Bird and allowing myself to dream cost me my family... if daring to see the outside world cost me a year of my life spent in limbo... what is this going to cost me? There's always a price to pay, for everything. If I'm this happy now... how bad will it be when the next thing breaks?"
