// I tried to scream but my head was underwater //
Was this moderation? It would be nice to think it was, but Maea didn't want to delude herself into thinking she had done something right just because nothing was on fire. And she could hardly call this 'doing something'; all she'd done was to stand mutely like some statue after insulting someone by accident. Panicking.
Watching the odd pair hook arms and continue past her, it was her last chance to correct the mistake. That Asta was there made her hesitant to say anything at all, but the question remained whether she cared about fixing this, whether it mattered, whether it was better to simply leave it be and count her losses.
Then she caught the whispered tail end of Flora's question. Of all the things to shake loose her tongue, that was a strange one, and yet Maea found herself turning - finally - and speaking to her retreating back. "I'm not. And I wasn't talking to you, before."
Apparently it mattered after all. Maybe not because of Asta's opinions, or because she cared what Flora would think... it just her need for clarity in the end. For good or ill.
Prying open her hands, Maea made an effort to smooth down the wrinkled fabric over her hips. Moving just to remind herself that it could be done, that it was an option.
That she wasn't childish enough to insist on lingering just to end up making herself uncomfortable.
Watching the odd pair hook arms and continue past her, it was her last chance to correct the mistake. That Asta was there made her hesitant to say anything at all, but the question remained whether she cared about fixing this, whether it mattered, whether it was better to simply leave it be and count her losses.
Then she caught the whispered tail end of Flora's question. Of all the things to shake loose her tongue, that was a strange one, and yet Maea found herself turning - finally - and speaking to her retreating back. "I'm not. And I wasn't talking to you, before."
Apparently it mattered after all. Maybe not because of Asta's opinions, or because she cared what Flora would think... it just her need for clarity in the end. For good or ill.
Prying open her hands, Maea made an effort to smooth down the wrinkled fabric over her hips. Moving just to remind herself that it could be done, that it was an option.
That she wasn't childish enough to insist on lingering just to end up making herself uncomfortable.
Maea
// They called me weak, like I'm not just somebody's daughter //
