Maea
Oh, when the world is burning
Back again. Home, Maea supposed as she made it off the ship, her weathered bag slung over her shoulder and the dark skirts kept out if the mud and slush of the docks. In the weeks she had been gone, most of the snow had disappeared save for the occasional drift sitting in shaded nooks, and in the dull brown of plantations and lawns a hint of green could be spotted. But though the sights and sounds of Jack Tar Landing were familiar by now, she didn't feel much of anything about returning. Only a weight on her shoulders, a twinge of unease at the thought of running into Danta or, gods forbid, Asta.
The last thing she had expected was to hear the ring of a familiar voice when she passed by the forge. Doing a double take, Maea backtracked and poked her head inside in time to see the blacksmith extend a hand in gruff agreement with a short, radiant, exquisitely beautiful woman.
"Hotaru?" she breathed, eyes widening in delight. "It really is you!" Stepping inside with arms outstretched to beg a hug from her friend, she couldn't think of a more welcome sight to break up her tendency towards brooding.
The last thing she had expected was to hear the ring of a familiar voice when she passed by the forge. Doing a double take, Maea backtracked and poked her head inside in time to see the blacksmith extend a hand in gruff agreement with a short, radiant, exquisitely beautiful woman.
"Hotaru?" she breathed, eyes widening in delight. "It really is you!" Stepping inside with arms outstretched to beg a hug from her friend, she couldn't think of a more welcome sight to break up her tendency towards brooding.
Don't walk away
