Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Noticing that he used his fingers near the boiling broth, Maea offered the chopsticks back to Hadama. Mer he may be, and a natural in water, but she was the fireproof one. Getting tired of my own words
"Mh. In moments like these, sure." Wrapping a slice of meat around a mushroom, she submerged the morsel into the pleasant churn of liquid and watched for the color is to change. "And in the grand scheme, yes. I'm still alive, after all. Even though I feel like I shouldn't be... at this point, after everything I've done to cling to existence, I just have to keep going. Preferably doing as little damage as possible."
Shrugging lightly, she brought the food to her lips and chewed slowly. A scent of herbs clung to her fingers, the skin ever so slightly shimmery with grease. Contentment warred with guilt, complex dichotomies clashing over the simmering broth. Meat she had provided settling slowly in her stomach, warming her from the inside; questioning the certainty of her beliefs, the validity of her fears and worries. Was it technically any different, enjoying a meal like this, versus enjoying it off the bone? Whether as a tiger, crow or in her own skin? What in the ritual of reparation and consumption made one way more okay than the other? It was confusing, and she didn't find any answers; only vague sentiment that suggested there should be a difference.
Maea sighed. "Have you ever hunted for food?"
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
