Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Every fiber of her being screamed of the fucked up insanity in what he was saying. Nostalgia? That's it? That's all it took for him to do all of that? Maea stared at him, unable to comprehend the pathways that lead to that kind of reasoning. "'An eye for an eye will leave the world blind'... you don't believe in being the better person?" Getting tired of my own words
Wiping her fingers on the snow, she shuffled stiffly into a slightly more dignified position, sitting rather than sprawling. Her legs still wouldn't hold any weight; like a deer on ice they slipped away and wobble, her throbbing head spinning so much that looking up at Asta made her want to throw up again. He didn't offer to help her up. And she didn't ask for help. The idea of living like normal in a place where people vanished in the night and no one asked why still filled her with indescribable dread. But... worst of all was the small, dark part of her that perhaps didn't mind so much, if the ones who vanished had hurt her.
That part really freaked her out.
"... nothing makes sense anymore." It was a child's complaints, but it spilled off her lips all the same. Gasping and fighting a terrible truth that threatened to escape, she hid her face in cold hands, ignorant of how small she really looked. "I don't know how to do this – how to live in this body – I don't want to end up like – " Like you.
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
