Maea
Rest against my pillow
like the aging winter sun
like the aging winter sun
The single biggest drawback to having a physical body that craved sustenance was that she had to work for a living. Maea didn't really have any practical skills, nor was she clear on what she wanted to do with herself going forward, and that left her with the sole option of doing odd jobs that no one else had time for. It was fine, really. Most of the tasks were menial and low effort, cleaning and carrying, sorting and tending - tasks that occupied the hands and let the thoughts wander freely.
It suited her for now, and that was how she found herself struggling through the marketplace with a basket full of groceries in one arm and a small sack of flour on the other. The rain had soaked through her cloak in the first hour of stepping outside, and the damp had started to trickle down her neck and spine. Mingling with sweat brought on by straining herself with the luggage, Maea felt as though she ought to steam in the unseasonably cold weather. With still a few more items to fetch from the list, she also needed a breather. Huffing softly, she came to a halt under the relative shelter and set the basket down. There was another woman there already, but Maea was too tired to be bothered by it.
"What a weather," she murmured, just in passing to acknowledge their presence. Leaning back against the wall, she too gazed out at the rain. Ceaselessly falling, rushing, pouring; if it didn't stop soon, there were going to be problems.
It suited her for now, and that was how she found herself struggling through the marketplace with a basket full of groceries in one arm and a small sack of flour on the other. The rain had soaked through her cloak in the first hour of stepping outside, and the damp had started to trickle down her neck and spine. Mingling with sweat brought on by straining herself with the luggage, Maea felt as though she ought to steam in the unseasonably cold weather. With still a few more items to fetch from the list, she also needed a breather. Huffing softly, she came to a halt under the relative shelter and set the basket down. There was another woman there already, but Maea was too tired to be bothered by it.
"What a weather," she murmured, just in passing to acknowledge their presence. Leaning back against the wall, she too gazed out at the rain. Ceaselessly falling, rushing, pouring; if it didn't stop soon, there were going to be problems.
Only wake each morning to
remember that you're gone
remember that you're gone
