SEREN
For every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
In every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
In every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
"We did," Seren murmured, leaning into Maeve as the woman came over. She felt bad for accepting the comfort when this was Maeve's day for being cared about and fussed over... but it was much needed and despite herself the young woman relaxed into the warm embrace.
When the world didn't seem quite as dark and terrible anymore, Maeve got up and popped into another room. Seren straightened up, bemused at the mention of gifts, and the Madame was given a long look when the big package was dumped into her knee.
"Maeve, you shouldn't have," she protested, even as the paper was removed - carefully, with patient fingers that did not rip at either paper or string. The contents made her eyes go wide with surprise; for long moments of quiet, the starchild picked through the items. Running careful fingers over the silk fabric of the garments, poking her nose into each container of tea and very reluctantly refraining from prying open the honey jar - it would have been empty by the end of the night if she allowed herself - but it was the mug that brought tears into her eyes.
"Maeve," she said again, not entirely steady. "You... it's - thank you."
It hadn't even occurred to her. But Locke's and her little game of family sort of did make her an aunt, didn't it? Not to mention her friendship with Maeve. She gazed at the woman again, and it was as though Seren saw her for the first time. Not a random person, somewhat flirtatious and good at encouragement... but her friend. Family, the kind you chose.
Ah, she wanted to weep all over again, and clutched the mug gently into her chest.
"Pyjama party, then?" She laughed, despite everything.
When the world didn't seem quite as dark and terrible anymore, Maeve got up and popped into another room. Seren straightened up, bemused at the mention of gifts, and the Madame was given a long look when the big package was dumped into her knee.
"Maeve, you shouldn't have," she protested, even as the paper was removed - carefully, with patient fingers that did not rip at either paper or string. The contents made her eyes go wide with surprise; for long moments of quiet, the starchild picked through the items. Running careful fingers over the silk fabric of the garments, poking her nose into each container of tea and very reluctantly refraining from prying open the honey jar - it would have been empty by the end of the night if she allowed herself - but it was the mug that brought tears into her eyes.
"Maeve," she said again, not entirely steady. "You... it's - thank you."
It hadn't even occurred to her. But Locke's and her little game of family sort of did make her an aunt, didn't it? Not to mention her friendship with Maeve. She gazed at the woman again, and it was as though Seren saw her for the first time. Not a random person, somewhat flirtatious and good at encouragement... but her friend. Family, the kind you chose.
Ah, she wanted to weep all over again, and clutched the mug gently into her chest.
"Pyjama party, then?" She laughed, despite everything.
In every dreamer a dream - we're unstoppable
with something to believe in
with something to believe in
