Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Revulsion sat thick in her throat, only intensifying as Thalassa praised her for causing her pain. It was a thought that had grown over time, this idea that she didn't want to hurt anyone. Whether animal or person, it didn't matter; Maea didn't want to injure, or maim, or kill. It was laughable, considering what she was. Like a cat trying to go vegan. It would never end well, and she really ought to stop fighting her urges, just accept that destruction was her new purpose and stop wishing, hoping, wanting for something she could never be... Getting tired of my own words
With a gasp of pain Maea yanked the dagger from her palm. Blood splattered into the snow, staining it red and raising steam in the cold air. Her head swam, and it was reflex that let her jerk away from the dagger that came hurtling towards her. She had to get her feet under her, had to get back up, had to keep moving – she didn't want to fight but she didn't want to die either.
With a strained cry she heaved herself up, leaping into the air. Even as her body vaulted up it began to shimmer and changed, arms turning to wings and talons, her beak a weapon of war that pecked at Thalassa's face, even as white feathers turned red from the puncture wound in the wing.
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
