// I tried to scream but my head was underwater //
What is wrong with you? What the fuck? What. The. Fuck? Wrong, what's wrong, what indeed is wrong in the head and body and soul of one Maea Valair? Hot topic, many wants to know, few actually care to find out. She would love to know herself, but the more she asked and the more advice she received the less clear it became.
A bit too much, yeah? Too opinionated, too considerate, too caring, too selfish and too loud, too much of everything and somehow still not enough. Not kind enough, not soft and gentle and understanding enough not open minded enough to accept and forgive everything, and she wasn't loose enough or fun enough or even cruel enough to earn that fearful kind of respect that villains got. Now if only she loosened up a bit and reigned herself in a bit and opened up a bit, and maybe if she showed some accountability and stopped being such a fucking hero, then maybe she would be able to fix this.
Except, it was out of her control. Fixing anything seemed to be beyond her ability. Flora's scathing words made that abundantly clear. And to make it a hundred times worse, Asta's name had her freezing in place, seizing up while a fog settled over her mind.
No. No no no, not like this. Not here, not now - please, gods, she was supposed to avoid him until he decided it was appropriate to meet. His terms, not hers.
Now she really should be running. But Maea couldn't bring herself to move. Hacking down shallow breaths she stared past Flora, into the dark beyond, just waiting to see that skulking figure part from the shadows. Her fists tightened in the dark velvet of the skirt, whitening knuckles the only giveaway of the sickening panic rising in her.
Maybe she would die here. Maybe that's what she deserved.
Maybe this - standing mute in the face of utter contempt - was the only just reward for a bitch like her.
A bit too much, yeah? Too opinionated, too considerate, too caring, too selfish and too loud, too much of everything and somehow still not enough. Not kind enough, not soft and gentle and understanding enough not open minded enough to accept and forgive everything, and she wasn't loose enough or fun enough or even cruel enough to earn that fearful kind of respect that villains got. Now if only she loosened up a bit and reigned herself in a bit and opened up a bit, and maybe if she showed some accountability and stopped being such a fucking hero, then maybe she would be able to fix this.
Except, it was out of her control. Fixing anything seemed to be beyond her ability. Flora's scathing words made that abundantly clear. And to make it a hundred times worse, Asta's name had her freezing in place, seizing up while a fog settled over her mind.
No. No no no, not like this. Not here, not now - please, gods, she was supposed to avoid him until he decided it was appropriate to meet. His terms, not hers.
Now she really should be running. But Maea couldn't bring herself to move. Hacking down shallow breaths she stared past Flora, into the dark beyond, just waiting to see that skulking figure part from the shadows. Her fists tightened in the dark velvet of the skirt, whitening knuckles the only giveaway of the sickening panic rising in her.
Maybe she would die here. Maybe that's what she deserved.
Maybe this - standing mute in the face of utter contempt - was the only just reward for a bitch like her.
Maea
// They called me weak, like I'm not just somebody's daughter //
