The quiet, singing voice of the rose.
The appearance of twinkling moonlight amongst the darkness made Thal's sobs hitch, pausing in surprise at the gentle presence that washed over her. Her immediate instinct was to react with fear or suspicion, yet the pale white light reminded her of someone enough to convince her to embrace the gift. She didn't say anything for some time, letting the magic soothe her body and emotions. The crying slowed to a silent flow of tears that she let fall, not even bothering to wipe them away. It didn't cure the ache in her chest despite the lifting of her physical discomfort. The thoughts continued to swirl in her brain. Loneliness. Inadequacy. Frustration. However, they all seemed to stem from the same realization.
In a soft, barely audible whisper, Thal's voice filtered out of the pit. "She's gone."
It wasn't a question or wish for absolution from the part she played in her friend's disappearance. It wasn't a cry for help. It was just a quiet air of acceptance for herself, a finality in the truth of what she'd lost. Maea was gone. And she'd taken a part of Thal with her.
In a soft, barely audible whisper, Thal's voice filtered out of the pit. "She's gone."
It wasn't a question or wish for absolution from the part she played in her friend's disappearance. It wasn't a cry for help. It was just a quiet air of acceptance for herself, a finality in the truth of what she'd lost. Maea was gone. And she'd taken a part of Thal with her.
The song that promised all might be well,
all might be well,
that all manner of things might be well.
all might be well,
that all manner of things might be well.
Thalassa
