Maea
And I hope that you don't suffer
But take the pain
But take the pain
The warmth, the pleasure, the blissful freedom from the need to think... it faded slowly, but with a relentlessness that matched the gradual descent of the sun. It would be light for some hours yet. Twilight came late in this paradise, but night fell swift once it arrived. If she were to make it to the portal before midnight, there would be precious little time left before she had to leave.
She? Or they? Would he come with her, on the long journey to Kaiholo? They still had so much talking left to do. Questions to ask and answer, problems to solve - what now? What were they now? How did they stay in touch, when did they meet next, when would he move, what about the Slagveld, how far away was she to keep herself, or was she not supposed to contact him at all? But he'd said he wouldn't disappear, so... so...
Maea wasn't reserved. Her quiet was a defense against the onslaught of panicked questions she didn't want to ask. Because the moment she broke the silence, they would have to move. As long as she was quiet, he would hold her. As long as there was still light, this wasn't over. 'Stay, for the rest of the day,' he'd said, but the day was fading away as she lay there on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. A finger traced the lines of his inked feathers, followed it perfectly; she didn't need to see it to know where it bent and curved, where it disappeared beneath the points of a compass that still pointed to her.
But.. that was the illusion, wasn't it. It only pointed to her, because she was in front of him. All it really meant was that he was supposed to move forward. That the right path was the one that lay ahead.
And maybe there was place for her by his side, the one not occupied by the ghost of a woman twice alive, twice dead, and perhaps she would be able to at least watch his back for him... but it was becoming increasingly clear that she couldn't be the only thing he moved towards. What kind of life would that be? It was a dangerous thing, to hang your happiness and purpose on the existence of another person. Just look at her... how miserable this parting was making her. And Maea had other things too, goals and purpose beyond a tall, handsome young man with oceans and storms in his eyes.
She supposed... that's what he had to find for himself.
Her breath was a little unsteady as she inhaled... and the sigh that followed was heavy. Mournful.
But Maea wasn't going to cry anymore. He didn't deserve that.
She? Or they? Would he come with her, on the long journey to Kaiholo? They still had so much talking left to do. Questions to ask and answer, problems to solve - what now? What were they now? How did they stay in touch, when did they meet next, when would he move, what about the Slagveld, how far away was she to keep herself, or was she not supposed to contact him at all? But he'd said he wouldn't disappear, so... so...
Maea wasn't reserved. Her quiet was a defense against the onslaught of panicked questions she didn't want to ask. Because the moment she broke the silence, they would have to move. As long as she was quiet, he would hold her. As long as there was still light, this wasn't over. 'Stay, for the rest of the day,' he'd said, but the day was fading away as she lay there on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. A finger traced the lines of his inked feathers, followed it perfectly; she didn't need to see it to know where it bent and curved, where it disappeared beneath the points of a compass that still pointed to her.
But.. that was the illusion, wasn't it. It only pointed to her, because she was in front of him. All it really meant was that he was supposed to move forward. That the right path was the one that lay ahead.
And maybe there was place for her by his side, the one not occupied by the ghost of a woman twice alive, twice dead, and perhaps she would be able to at least watch his back for him... but it was becoming increasingly clear that she couldn't be the only thing he moved towards. What kind of life would that be? It was a dangerous thing, to hang your happiness and purpose on the existence of another person. Just look at her... how miserable this parting was making her. And Maea had other things too, goals and purpose beyond a tall, handsome young man with oceans and storms in his eyes.
She supposed... that's what he had to find for himself.
Her breath was a little unsteady as she inhaled... and the sigh that followed was heavy. Mournful.
But Maea wasn't going to cry anymore. He didn't deserve that.
Hope if everybody runs
You choose to stay
You choose to stay
