Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Fortunately for the both of them, there was a lot of river separating Maea from the dragoon. She was reminded of it when she surged forward only to plunge a foot deep into frigid currents. Hissing with barely contained rage she recoiled, left to level a flat glare at him instead of... what? Throttling him? The nerve of this man! She did not want to cry, she wanted to hit something very hard until either they or she broke. Getting tired of my own words
"Maybe your mother should have taught you about the fragility of life instead," she suggested pointedly, "like mine did. Then you'd know to mind your own fucking business." Maea's mom had not stuck around to instruct her on what to do to make people go away. Death was the only lesson she ever taught her daughter, and nothing about life or how to live it. She could have used some wise words now, when her throat burned with fury - or fear? - and the concern of a passerby was enough to make her crave violence – or nearly crumble apart.
"Answer the question, soldier. What are you going to do? You're saying I look like I need your help. What help? Why? Why are you here?"
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
