Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
The silence at the tail end of her question hung potent in the air, begging to be filled. One would think there was no such thing in a bar where sound was the one constant, but in truth that was just a drone in her ears, less worthy of notice than even the sigh of blood in her veins or the beat of her heart. Maea was patient enough to wait for the answer but couldn't help but wonder where this tension stemmed from. Was it merely the life of a vagabond that set him on edge like this? Getting tired of my own words
When his answer came it hit the air like that elbow on the table. Hard, abrupt. It was alarming, in a way, to find herself the sole point of reference for someone. Wasn't sure she liked that. The twitch in pale eyebrows suggested as much, the way they couldn't decide whether to rise in surprise or sink into a light frown. Humming, she adjusted the burdens in her arms, gazing out through the window.
"That does sound alarming... may I sit?" She would have suggested they go somewhere else to discuss these voices in his head, but frankly... before she knew exactly what Michael meant by that, it might be better to just stay here. In public.
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
