// I tried to scream but my head was underwater //
They did and did not. Whatever answers she found were no doubt both harsh and unforgiving, in ways that would have a therapist raise their brows and ask in a voice, not unlike Danta's, whether she would say those same things to anyone else. The answer to that was of course no. Why? Because she expected a lot more of herself than she ever would from another person. Not least of the things were responsibility, accountability, patience - all things she had failed to provide anyone for a long time.
Perhaps this was her cue to start, before she fell any further in her own esteem.
Remi's probably chased her gaze down from the rafters and onto him, wide eyed with painful hope. Then he went on, questioning her motives... and Maea found that any answers she had were muddled and complex, tangled roots that wound all the way to a core of what has to be... loneliness, right?
"Well... he was kind to me," she tried to explain, starting with the most obvious reason. "They've all been. Welcoming, tolerant, generous... I've done a very poor job of repaying any of that. So I feel like I owe them anything I can give in apology, at least." But he was right, making up with the Butcher now would mean accepting who he was, what he did... and a flicker of uncertainty entered her pastel gaze.
"Besides that... I worry. About where I will end up, if I can't accept these people. If I can't live with them, and with Dygra, how can I live with myself when... when I share the same urges? At the end of the day, he and I... we're not that different. If our places were reversed, it could easily be me who did all of those things. It's nothing but chance that gave me a good upbringing while he had to fight to survive."
If it was love, it was a different kind from the usual romantic one. Familial, perhaps, or even the desire for family not yet blossomed. "I guess, ultimately... I rather selfishly don't want to be left out of what they have. They are so... free, Remi. In ways I have never been. If I can, I would like to learn from them."
So in the end, perhaps it was simply admiration? Maea shrugged, unable to explain it better.
Perhaps this was her cue to start, before she fell any further in her own esteem.
Remi's probably chased her gaze down from the rafters and onto him, wide eyed with painful hope. Then he went on, questioning her motives... and Maea found that any answers she had were muddled and complex, tangled roots that wound all the way to a core of what has to be... loneliness, right?
"Well... he was kind to me," she tried to explain, starting with the most obvious reason. "They've all been. Welcoming, tolerant, generous... I've done a very poor job of repaying any of that. So I feel like I owe them anything I can give in apology, at least." But he was right, making up with the Butcher now would mean accepting who he was, what he did... and a flicker of uncertainty entered her pastel gaze.
"Besides that... I worry. About where I will end up, if I can't accept these people. If I can't live with them, and with Dygra, how can I live with myself when... when I share the same urges? At the end of the day, he and I... we're not that different. If our places were reversed, it could easily be me who did all of those things. It's nothing but chance that gave me a good upbringing while he had to fight to survive."
If it was love, it was a different kind from the usual romantic one. Familial, perhaps, or even the desire for family not yet blossomed. "I guess, ultimately... I rather selfishly don't want to be left out of what they have. They are so... free, Remi. In ways I have never been. If I can, I would like to learn from them."
So in the end, perhaps it was simply admiration? Maea shrugged, unable to explain it better.
Maea
// They called me weak, like I'm not just somebody's daughter //
