Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
The vendor turned towards the new customer with a pleasant smile, appearing pleased to attend someone who actually knew what they wanted. Getting tired of my own words
"Bookmarks? Hm, well, perhaps one of these might suit," they suggested and indicated a rich blue velvet frame against which an assortment of baubles stringed to silken chord and ribbons had been pinned. They looked mostly like necklaces or hair ornaments, but as the vendor smoothly assured, they would fit quite well between pages as well.
The price they offered caused Maea to raise a brow and set the glasses down again. "That's robbery," she pointed out, frowning as the glanced between the two. "What are you making these out of, diamond dust?" Even if the materials required to blow glass had to be imported, it didn't warrant such an outrageous price. The merchant in her was appalled and Maea turned to the other woman to say as much, realizing only belatedly that she knew her.
The words died on her tongue, wilting back into a throat suddenly too full of unfulfilled promises to produce sound.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
