Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
This time she did laugh. A short bark of a sound, equal parts bitter and surprised. The figure on the card looked like a different version of herself, like a snapshot of her early past. She had been stuck in a bed too, once, tormented by the dangers and darkness looming over her head. It seemed that although she had strength in her legs and could breathe freely, she still hadn't really moved at all. Getting tired of my own words
"It seems... that I've been locking myself up in that bed for a while now," she admitted. It was a difficult thing to accept; objections and excuses already clamored against the notion, arguing about the circumstances, the harsh realities, the inescapable truths – Maea shook herself, as if to physically stave the thoughts off. "Suffering is a self fulfilling prophecy, is that a good summary? It sounds like I have some work to do, if I want anything to change."
Rubbing her lips with a thumb, the pale-skinned woman stared quietly at the cards for a time. Thoughts straying far afield, drawing connections, rearranging facts she'd thought stone-carved only to discover with surprise they had been domino bricks all along, simply turned the wrong way.
In the end, a flicker of hope began to emerge, like slivers of light illuminating dark stormclouds. A smile ghosted across her face, and she nodded, some decision clicking into place as Maea looked up.
"Thank you. That really helped. Admittedly I wasn't expecting much, but... I feel a lot better. Like I actually have a choice after all."
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
