Maea
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb
Doing as instructed, she fed a bright red and green streamed apple to the sow. It seemed to help take away the pain, or at least offer sufficient distraction. Plucking a piece of fruit from her sleeve she let it fall into the snow and turned to the priestess with her hands outstretched.
The blood felt slick and warm against her skin. Even the brief touch caused her to flinch, entirely unaccustomed to that level of intimacy no matter the purpose. Be it a handshake, a hug, a pat on the head or a simple mischievous poke of a cheek - if it wasn't violent Maea did not really know it anymore, and wasn't sure what to make of it. She kept her eyes open while the ritual painting moved from her hands to the face; expression wary and closed off, ready to bolt if this proved to be going anywhere but where the priestess had already explained.
The blood felt slick and warm against her skin. Even the brief touch caused her to flinch, entirely unaccustomed to that level of intimacy no matter the purpose. Be it a handshake, a hug, a pat on the head or a simple mischievous poke of a cheek - if it wasn't violent Maea did not really know it anymore, and wasn't sure what to make of it. She kept her eyes open while the ritual painting moved from her hands to the face; expression wary and closed off, ready to bolt if this proved to be going anywhere but where the priestess had already explained.
And I remember thinking — I want to be like them
