Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
She was hurting too. Aching, burning, but not with the kind of fire he craved. Maea had no flames, not that kind he missed. She was winter, and ice, and dark nights without starlight or a moon to guide the way. She was Deepfrost and Longnight and the monsters that lurked in the dark, and that was how she could love him. Because his waters ran deep enough. Raged hard enough, that even she had to take notice.
And... perhaps it was all because of these Longheat days, and the bright sunlight, that she'd been mistaken for some moon. Some lightbringer to guide anyone out of the shadows.
Didn't her companion speak plenty of her nature? Just a wisp of a girl, weaving an errant path through life. As capable of leading people over the edge off a cliff as she was of letting them find a path back home. There was no plan, no hand guiding the reins. She didn't know what she was doing.
But he asked her to wait, and though she hurt, Maea couldn't deny him anything. Not even now, when she was this close to falling apart. She stopped, a hand braced on the table to keep her balance.
Waiting. For what... she didn't know.
Was this where she woke up, at last?
And... perhaps it was all because of these Longheat days, and the bright sunlight, that she'd been mistaken for some moon. Some lightbringer to guide anyone out of the shadows.
Didn't her companion speak plenty of her nature? Just a wisp of a girl, weaving an errant path through life. As capable of leading people over the edge off a cliff as she was of letting them find a path back home. There was no plan, no hand guiding the reins. She didn't know what she was doing.
But he asked her to wait, and though she hurt, Maea couldn't deny him anything. Not even now, when she was this close to falling apart. She stopped, a hand braced on the table to keep her balance.
Waiting. For what... she didn't know.
Was this where she woke up, at last?
