Maea
I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear
The sun is gonna reappear
There was such a thing as guilt by association. Sheltering a criminal was a crime in itself. Not attempting to change a situation meant you accepted it - and all it took for evil to win out was for good men to do nothing. Objections along those lines kept flaring up, along with a rather guilty argument that Danta's lifestyle really might be rubbing off on her in more ways than one. But she didn't voice any of it. It was pointless, because as much as Asta's points were valid and persuasive, they couldn't entirely erase her concerns. It was so easy to say that she was her own person, but when it came down to it she barely knew what that meant anymore.
"Even if I prefer order and stability over tumult and chaos? Even if I don't enjoy hunting or dousing myself in blood and care just as much about people who aren't ancient? Is it still fine to be myself if I would pray to gods other than Dygra?" She peered up over the edge of her knees, mistrusting his acceptance enough to push for a limit, for some border where the tolerance would end.
"Even if I prefer order and stability over tumult and chaos? Even if I don't enjoy hunting or dousing myself in blood and care just as much about people who aren't ancient? Is it still fine to be myself if I would pray to gods other than Dygra?" She peered up over the edge of her knees, mistrusting his acceptance enough to push for a limit, for some border where the tolerance would end.
Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!
Hold on, hold on!
