Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Looking up at the soft question, Maea found herself faced with exactly what she had been hoping to avoid. There should be a lesson in that, somewhere, of the virtues of facing your troubles head on. But to be honest, the look of this woman that she had met once so very long ago - was it not half a lifetime? at least that's what it felt like - had Maea thinking she was doing pretty well for herself, all things considered. Something in the woman's eyes seemed harrowed, hollow even, and she found herself nodding and taking a step aside to let her closer to the fire. Getting tired of my own words
"You can stir this," she offered, pointing to the big pot that was currently left unattended. "Make sure you scrape the bottom, or it will burn."
Chewing the inside of her cheek, unsure of what else to say, she turned away for a moment to accept an armful of wood from a helper. Feeding the fire one log at a time, she eventually sat back on her heels with her elbows braced against the knees, watching as a gaggle of children tumbled past. Their laughter cut through the crisp air, bright and cheerful, and somewhere out of sight someone started up a tune on a flute.
Strange, how something so simple as free food could lift the spirits of people in this way. It hadn't even been intentional, and yet... it felt good.
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
