[SE] this castle of glass

Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words

The wind turned. From an overcast sky snowflakes began to fall. Small at first, barely more than needle pricks against the skin, they steadily grew in both number and density, until the flurry was so thick that it became impossible to see more than a few feet. Indistinct figures huddled under white-fringed cloaks, bending their backs against the icy draft and clutching their collars as they hurried along the streets. It was not a day for lingering outside. Even with the warmth of the bonfire to stave off the worst chill, the ground was churned into a slurry of snow and mud that splattered across boots and skirts, clinging to coats and soaking through until toes grew numb with cold damp. 

Maea pulled her hood up and picked her way gingerly across puddles towards a market stall. Rubbing her arms beneath the dark cloak she browsed the goods absently, occasionally reaching out to touch the rim of a ceramic bowl, a bolt of colorful cloth, knitted clothing or jewelry that sparkled in the firelight. It was all nice, pretty things, but though she defied the weather and made a full turn around the marketplace she didn't feel like anything she saw would suit her needs. 

How did one express gratitude for a life saved? What object could possibly equal what had been gifted her? You didn't find second chances (or was it third, by now? Fourth?) laid out for display. A token, then, would have to suffice. Something symbolic, or practical, or at least pretty... 
Pursing her lips, the petite woman slowed before a neatly arranged display of glassware. Figurines rubbed shoulders with bowls and pitchers, decorative stained glass pieces hung side by side with wind-chimes, prisms and colorful jewelry in a display that would have been dazzling in the sun. Picking up a wine glass to examine the craftsmanship more closely, she did her best to ignore the shop keeper's impatient shuffle on the other side of the table and tried not to let their eagerness to pack up for the day get to her. Easier said than done; with every barely restrained sigh and pointed rub of gloved hands together, Maea's tail flicked harder and faster as irritation mounted.

Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts

base inspired by Odd <3