Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Upset beyond tears, too exhausted to fall asleep, a sluggish kind of haze had settled over the pale woman that only partly due to the cold. Her own thoughts were too loud, despair warring against doubt over the fractured shards of hope now scattered about her feet. The didn't hear him coming. And when he touched her, and she realized who it was, Maea flinched back like she'd been burned. Her head snapped up like a startled horse, face ashen in the dark; she stared at Asta, at the little spot of crimson still clinging to his face. Getting tired of my own words
What was the doing here? Gods, if she only knew. It seemed so stupid now. "You were acting strange... I was worried about you." Her voice came out hoarse and quiet, barely more than a whisper; and the couldn't look at him.
Pushing herself up to stand, her joints felt stiff and sluggish; petrification would set in soon. That was the third fucking mistake this night.
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
