Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Her own silence was impatient and brittle in comparison, like Leafchange ice that fractured at the merest touch. "Fuck yeah, it upsets me," she agreed, like it wasn't obvious already. "Not that he's dead, but that you were capable of such a thing. That you enjoyed it! And if that's what you always do, and what is being permitted to continue here – you're right. I can't accept that. And I don't want to be part of it." Getting tired of my own words
It hurt, saying it. Hurt knowing that she was removing herself from the little glimpse of companionship and belonging she'd had a taste of. But this had been an eye-opener to what the reality of what her so called friends were like, and it really hammered home once and for all that she had a very different idea of what was right, and good, and acceptable in the people she associated with.
This wasn't it.
"I quit." Her eyes burned, but she blinked the tears away - they were only a reaction to the nausea. At least that's what she told herself. "I give up. This fucking place – " Tugging on the buckle of the cloak, she pulled it off her shoulders, yanking it off a horn when it caught on it, and all but threw it at Asta. "This fucking family, huh."
Mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace, she pushed away from the wall and made to stalk past the Butcher. Ignoring the cold or the lack of anywhere to go, Maea couldn't care less as long as she got away from here.
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
