She bows to no one.
Thal watched the exchange between Maea and her sister-in-law, observing the way the woman's words elicited such emotions. The way her face appeared so broken; a sympathetic pain caused her chest to ache. Each word had found its mark, but they gave her no satisfaction. The journey to healing required the debridement of old wounds to prevent trapping the infection within. This was the first step for Maea. This was the most painful part. Thal was not ignorant to her suffering or the struggles she would continue to experience.
As the ghost turned to her with an appreciative - yet somber - smile, Thal nodded her head in respect and understanding. She had been the battering ram to open Maea's heart. There had been no softness or compassion in how she approached the issue. No gentle embraces or kind words. That wasn't going to make Maea receptive to the words of her family. It felt like cruelty to dredge up such deep insecurities and dark memories even if Thal knew it was necessary. However, it didn't change the guilt wracking her body.
In a flash of blinding light, the ghost took the flame of anger, leaving her with a cold chill. Each tensing of her muscles was a sore aching reminder of their verbal battle. Her tongue was a heavy bar of lead tasting of ash and bitter words. And yet her work wasn't done.
Her movements were sluggish as she approached the pale Ancient crumpled on the floor. She had no experience comforting others. Pirates didn't cry. Pirates didn't need emotional support. They shoved their fears and insecurities into the depths of the sea, only to be reunited when they embraced their watery graves. But Maea wasn't a pirate and Thal was partially - perhaps fully - to blame for her agony. So she knelt next to her and reached out a tender hand to let the Ancient know she was there. If she wanted a hug, she was here as an offering to embrace. If she wanted silence, she would be with her in the silence. If she wanted to speak, she would respond with as much gentleness as she could muster. If she wanted something to hit, she was prepared to be the subject of her aggression. Whatever Maea needed, Thal was ready to be that for her.
As the ghost turned to her with an appreciative - yet somber - smile, Thal nodded her head in respect and understanding. She had been the battering ram to open Maea's heart. There had been no softness or compassion in how she approached the issue. No gentle embraces or kind words. That wasn't going to make Maea receptive to the words of her family. It felt like cruelty to dredge up such deep insecurities and dark memories even if Thal knew it was necessary. However, it didn't change the guilt wracking her body.
In a flash of blinding light, the ghost took the flame of anger, leaving her with a cold chill. Each tensing of her muscles was a sore aching reminder of their verbal battle. Her tongue was a heavy bar of lead tasting of ash and bitter words. And yet her work wasn't done.
Her movements were sluggish as she approached the pale Ancient crumpled on the floor. She had no experience comforting others. Pirates didn't cry. Pirates didn't need emotional support. They shoved their fears and insecurities into the depths of the sea, only to be reunited when they embraced their watery graves. But Maea wasn't a pirate and Thal was partially - perhaps fully - to blame for her agony. So she knelt next to her and reached out a tender hand to let the Ancient know she was there. If she wanted a hug, she was here as an offering to embrace. If she wanted silence, she would be with her in the silence. If she wanted to speak, she would respond with as much gentleness as she could muster. If she wanted something to hit, she was prepared to be the subject of her aggression. Whatever Maea needed, Thal was ready to be that for her.
Thalassa
