Maea
And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear
Like I'll disappear
Questions burned on her tongue, but Maea was too polite to keep digging when Asta clearly did not intend to explain. The tidbit only made her wonder more - curious by nature and by profession, admittedly - because if Danta wouldn't tell, and Asta wouldn't tell, then the chances of her ever knowing was rapidly dwindling.
She would have to settle for the glimpse into old Ancient society instead, and nodded that she was listening as he painted a general picture for her benefit. "Fascinating," she murmured, itching to write it down. "We don't know anything about your time. Even Dygra had been forgotten, until the Voice woke her. So much that's been lost... It must be strange, to see the world so different, right? I was petrified for only a few years after the war, and I'm reeling from all the changes."
It was quite generous of him to be so forthcoming with his story. The brutality of the ordeal he had lived through drained what little color there was in Maea's face, and she put a hand over her mouth against the sour burn at the back of her throat.
"That's horrible," she croaked - immediately mortified of her cheerful onslaught when he must have been fighting actual terror. "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine..." The pain. The awful dread. A shudder ran through her and she hunched her shoulders nearly to the ears in belated empathy.
She would have to settle for the glimpse into old Ancient society instead, and nodded that she was listening as he painted a general picture for her benefit. "Fascinating," she murmured, itching to write it down. "We don't know anything about your time. Even Dygra had been forgotten, until the Voice woke her. So much that's been lost... It must be strange, to see the world so different, right? I was petrified for only a few years after the war, and I'm reeling from all the changes."
It was quite generous of him to be so forthcoming with his story. The brutality of the ordeal he had lived through drained what little color there was in Maea's face, and she put a hand over her mouth against the sour burn at the back of her throat.
"That's horrible," she croaked - immediately mortified of her cheerful onslaught when he must have been fighting actual terror. "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine..." The pain. The awful dread. A shudder ran through her and she hunched her shoulders nearly to the ears in belated empathy.
Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on
Yet I go on
