Maea
Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand
A wistful expression came over the Ancient while she listened to his experience, remembering her own first encounter with a god. The deity was different but that sense of wonder and disbelief was the same. It was incredible to realize how far she come from that girl; in many ways she remained the same but in this, experience had altered her view of the gods beyond recognition.
"When I was younger, I would have given anything to speak with Frey," she mused aloud. "When my childhood friend, Amalia, attuned to Safrin I was so jealous I barely spoke to her for weeks. It wasn't until much later that I began to realize how fickle they can be. Take Ludo, for instance; it helped me see when I'd nearly lost my sight, gave me its own rags against the cold, even attuned me despite my magic. Yet the same god played cruel tricks on Remi, taunting him and forcing dreadful choices on him. I've heard stories about all of them, both Safrin and Frey - not to even mention the Voice." Scraping a nail along the wood grain of the table, her gaze had turned distant. Maea didn't really accuse any of them, not was she trying to dampen Liam's joy at the encounter. It really was something to celebrate. "Perhaps my mistake was thinking that kindness equaled good... or even friendly. Last time I spoke to Ludo, this past summer, it was as if none of our previous exchanges meant anything at all. And perhaps they never did, to anyone but me. It certainly taught me not to take it for granted."
Her smile twisted, became a touch wry and perhaps a bit sad. It didn't hurt as much now as it had at the time; what remained was a bittersweet regret, of a connection faded beyond recognition or repair. She wasn't that girl anymore, that she would do anything for a bit of acknowledgement.
"When I was younger, I would have given anything to speak with Frey," she mused aloud. "When my childhood friend, Amalia, attuned to Safrin I was so jealous I barely spoke to her for weeks. It wasn't until much later that I began to realize how fickle they can be. Take Ludo, for instance; it helped me see when I'd nearly lost my sight, gave me its own rags against the cold, even attuned me despite my magic. Yet the same god played cruel tricks on Remi, taunting him and forcing dreadful choices on him. I've heard stories about all of them, both Safrin and Frey - not to even mention the Voice." Scraping a nail along the wood grain of the table, her gaze had turned distant. Maea didn't really accuse any of them, not was she trying to dampen Liam's joy at the encounter. It really was something to celebrate. "Perhaps my mistake was thinking that kindness equaled good... or even friendly. Last time I spoke to Ludo, this past summer, it was as if none of our previous exchanges meant anything at all. And perhaps they never did, to anyone but me. It certainly taught me not to take it for granted."
Her smile twisted, became a touch wry and perhaps a bit sad. It didn't hurt as much now as it had at the time; what remained was a bittersweet regret, of a connection faded beyond recognition or repair. She wasn't that girl anymore, that she would do anything for a bit of acknowledgement.
You're looking at me like you don't know who I am
