Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
The party had been in full swing since the last drop of color drained from the sky. Time had lost all meaning for the revelers and only those who worked to supply the customers with food, drink and fresh sheets could feel the passage of time in their aching limbs and the occasional stolen break. Getting tired of my own words
Keen to lose herself in the blur of faces and forget that anything existed past the next line of drinks to pour, Maea had gone long past weariness. Her feet throbbed from standing for hours and in her back something like a steel rod must have been lodged into her spine and heated to a cherry red glow, because nothing else could explain the pain it caused her. Her body and mind screamed for a break - but stopping felt impossible. It would mean relaxing, thinking, remembering the long night and all the ghosts that waited for her guard to come down.
More importantly, stopping would also mean dealing with the eyes that followed her as she moved behind the bar.
One person in particular made her uneasy as she refilled their glasses. A red-haired man with cold eyes sat nestled up with a tall short-haired woman and a person who had colorful tattoos covering the entire neck. They were laughing and talking amongst themselves, but she could feel his eyes lingering and there was something calculating about it that set her skin crawling.
But it was fine. As long as she kept working, no one bothered her.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
