Maea
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved
Her ears proved that she was listening, their light twitches separating the murmur of the water from his confessions. It was cold. The places where Liam leaned against her were the only parts of her body that didn't feel the chill creep in. Stiffening joints. Tightening muscle. It wasn't yet to the point where she would start to petrify, but given enough time it would happen. Maea told herself that Liam wouldn't be able to stay in the cold water for very long either. Whomever moved first would release the other - it would be fine.
In times like these, though, she lamented the lack of attuned bond, or telepathic ability. She couldn't answer him with less than a shift of form, so there was no way to convey how much she understood. She had come home to a house showing all the signs of a struggle, and so much blood. Dead sheep, dead dogs, a house splattered in crimson - no bodies, though. Maea never had to lift her family out of the rubble, or see their ruined forms lowered into graves, or burn on pyres. Her nightmares were bad enough without seeing their lifeless faces - no wonder he'd sought refuge in the bottle!
Far from scaring her off or causing her to think less of him, it only raised her opinion of this man, that he could even stand to get out of bed in the morning. Stronger men had broken for far less, she thought, respecting Liam all the more for remaining as kind and generous as he was. So what if that wasn't every day?
Maea turned her chiseled head around so she could see him, meet his gaze for just a moment. She couldn't tell him all that passed through her mind of empathy or understanding, but she did rest her narrow chin against his arm, a warm touch of support that wasn't going anywhere.
In times like these, though, she lamented the lack of attuned bond, or telepathic ability. She couldn't answer him with less than a shift of form, so there was no way to convey how much she understood. She had come home to a house showing all the signs of a struggle, and so much blood. Dead sheep, dead dogs, a house splattered in crimson - no bodies, though. Maea never had to lift her family out of the rubble, or see their ruined forms lowered into graves, or burn on pyres. Her nightmares were bad enough without seeing their lifeless faces - no wonder he'd sought refuge in the bottle!
Far from scaring her off or causing her to think less of him, it only raised her opinion of this man, that he could even stand to get out of bed in the morning. Stronger men had broken for far less, she thought, respecting Liam all the more for remaining as kind and generous as he was. So what if that wasn't every day?
Maea turned her chiseled head around so she could see him, meet his gaze for just a moment. She couldn't tell him all that passed through her mind of empathy or understanding, but she did rest her narrow chin against his arm, a warm touch of support that wasn't going anywhere.
In secret, between the shadow and the soul
