Maea
I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear
The sun is gonna reappear
Watching him closely, the surprised reaction had her own expression softening into a look of understanding. "Mhm. I wouldn't lie to a friend, so. At least you know I believe it." It was probably strange the same way the idea of herself as the host of a ball had been strange, the way having friends and being appreciated for herself was strange and difficult to fathom. A piece of clothing so new it did not yet fit comfortably, shoes not yet softened to fit the foot within - or some other such synonym, Maea's head swam a bit and didn't make much sense in up-close scrutiny.
Melting out across the table with her hands almost making it over to Danta's end, the petite woman sighed anxiously. It sounded so dangerous. The kind of sly, quick-witted kind of scheming she really wasn't any good at, that required smiling to people you didn't like and making promises you didn't intend to keep, and drowning yourself in mud and blood that might never completely wash out again.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "Not of the fighting, but the... the enduring. How bad will it get? At this rate the Wilds will be overrun in two years, if even that. Hunting will get difficult. Travel might be impossible. Do we have food enough to feed everyone inside the ward if all the farmers and sailors and merchants come flooding in for protection? All those people cooped up in too small a space with emotions running high... But the worst part is that if it goes on too long, they will start getting used to it. And before anyone knows it, they'll have fallen in line with whatever becomes the safest and easiest. And that's where it would all begin to rot..."
The table smelled of wine and detergent, cool and solid beneath her chin. Yet it didn't ground her nearly enough to chase away the dark visions her imagination painted up, spun out of worries and painful personal experience. The cage she feared was not some physical bars blocking her from going wherever she wanted, but a mental one; the deep, listless resignation that convinced her that leaving would be impossible, and that even trying would be pointless.
Melting out across the table with her hands almost making it over to Danta's end, the petite woman sighed anxiously. It sounded so dangerous. The kind of sly, quick-witted kind of scheming she really wasn't any good at, that required smiling to people you didn't like and making promises you didn't intend to keep, and drowning yourself in mud and blood that might never completely wash out again.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "Not of the fighting, but the... the enduring. How bad will it get? At this rate the Wilds will be overrun in two years, if even that. Hunting will get difficult. Travel might be impossible. Do we have food enough to feed everyone inside the ward if all the farmers and sailors and merchants come flooding in for protection? All those people cooped up in too small a space with emotions running high... But the worst part is that if it goes on too long, they will start getting used to it. And before anyone knows it, they'll have fallen in line with whatever becomes the safest and easiest. And that's where it would all begin to rot..."
The table smelled of wine and detergent, cool and solid beneath her chin. Yet it didn't ground her nearly enough to chase away the dark visions her imagination painted up, spun out of worries and painful personal experience. The cage she feared was not some physical bars blocking her from going wherever she wanted, but a mental one; the deep, listless resignation that convinced her that leaving would be impossible, and that even trying would be pointless.
Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!
Hold on, hold on!
