Maea
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb
Curiosity sparked in the loreseeker at that little tidbit. While Asta and Danta both had been stonebound, neither men had been very eloquent about their pasts - certainly not in the way this woman had been. As one who never ran out of questions, she'd love to pick her brain about what was history to Maea, and yesterday to Charlie.
But that was a conversation for another time. Her head hurt too much to think much more for the evening, and her latest acquaintance had a ritual to finish. "Thank you," she simply said instead. "For listening, even though you really didn't have to. It... I really appreciate it." Maybe next time they met she wouldn't be such a mess.
Softening at the sweet gesture, Maea accepted the butterfly and fed it a touch of her own magic so that it would remain intact. "I'm glad to have met you, too. Can I... can I know your name?" Suddenly shy upon realizing that she'd completely skipped all kinds of introductions, she would linger only long enough to hear the answer. Then she was on her feet, ready to head home and leave the priestess to her 'worship'.
If a small part of her was curious, and maybe even regretting the choice to leave and not see this through to the end, it was quickly smothered and squished, trampled under a heel and buried beneath the ashes. There was progress, and then there was trauma - better call it quits while she was still ahead.
But that was a conversation for another time. Her head hurt too much to think much more for the evening, and her latest acquaintance had a ritual to finish. "Thank you," she simply said instead. "For listening, even though you really didn't have to. It... I really appreciate it." Maybe next time they met she wouldn't be such a mess.
Softening at the sweet gesture, Maea accepted the butterfly and fed it a touch of her own magic so that it would remain intact. "I'm glad to have met you, too. Can I... can I know your name?" Suddenly shy upon realizing that she'd completely skipped all kinds of introductions, she would linger only long enough to hear the answer. Then she was on her feet, ready to head home and leave the priestess to her 'worship'.
If a small part of her was curious, and maybe even regretting the choice to leave and not see this through to the end, it was quickly smothered and squished, trampled under a heel and buried beneath the ashes. There was progress, and then there was trauma - better call it quits while she was still ahead.
And I remember thinking — I want to be like them
