Maea
I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear
The sun is gonna reappear
Hiding the bottom half of her face away behind her knees, her shrug was a small, reluctant thing. "I care," she admitted, slowly like the words had to be dragged from the bottom of her very being. It wasn't something she liked to say, but it was the truth. "Too much. About everything and everyone. Even when no one asks for it. I don't want to, but I can't help it." Words had a way of lingering with her long after the speaker was dead and rotten. They had a power she didn't know how to fight, because too often they reflected what she was already thinking.
Expecting him to take offense by her blunt outburst, it was with wary eyes that she watched him settle by the foot of the bed to explain his side of things. The apology startled her. As did the attempt to assuage her worries. It was almost believable, and she could see the paths his logic was moving... It just didn't hit right, because it wasn't losing her life that she was worried about.
Sighing, Maea thumped her brow against a knee. Silky tresses of white hair clung to the velvet of her dress, making it electric and prone to dancing in the air around her head. "I guess that should be reassuring," she mumbled. "Except it isn't, really. It still means you're going to eat others who aren't ancient. And if I'm fine with that, doesn't it make me just as bad? What else will I be able to look away from? Where does the line go between tolerating something and participating in it? Will I even notice if I start to slip, or will I wake up one day on a pile of bones and wonder when I lost myself?" Pale fingers searched their way up into her hair, rubbing tiny circles around the base of the horns. There was an ache beneath them that she couldn't quite place.
"It's not really that I'm afraid of you," she said. "It's me I don't trust. It's this tendency to throw caution to the wind and let myself be influenced by people around me. I care what you all think about me, and so I try to change myself into something that is a bit more like you - so that I'll fit in. So you'll like what you see. So that I won't be alone anymore. But I don't know... if I'll end up liking myself in the end. I just... don't know."
Expecting him to take offense by her blunt outburst, it was with wary eyes that she watched him settle by the foot of the bed to explain his side of things. The apology startled her. As did the attempt to assuage her worries. It was almost believable, and she could see the paths his logic was moving... It just didn't hit right, because it wasn't losing her life that she was worried about.
Sighing, Maea thumped her brow against a knee. Silky tresses of white hair clung to the velvet of her dress, making it electric and prone to dancing in the air around her head. "I guess that should be reassuring," she mumbled. "Except it isn't, really. It still means you're going to eat others who aren't ancient. And if I'm fine with that, doesn't it make me just as bad? What else will I be able to look away from? Where does the line go between tolerating something and participating in it? Will I even notice if I start to slip, or will I wake up one day on a pile of bones and wonder when I lost myself?" Pale fingers searched their way up into her hair, rubbing tiny circles around the base of the horns. There was an ache beneath them that she couldn't quite place.
"It's not really that I'm afraid of you," she said. "It's me I don't trust. It's this tendency to throw caution to the wind and let myself be influenced by people around me. I care what you all think about me, and so I try to change myself into something that is a bit more like you - so that I'll fit in. So you'll like what you see. So that I won't be alone anymore. But I don't know... if I'll end up liking myself in the end. I just... don't know."
Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!
Hold on, hold on!
