// May the road rise up to meet you //
Well. That made things nice and simple, didn't it. She could drop any expectation of mending that burning bridge and go on with her life. The way she flung her arms out was exasperated, though not really surprised. The silence had told her enough, and the only question that remained was why she kept on beating this dead horse with Thalassa.
"How about we stop debating it, then, if it's a moot point anyway. He's not going to stop. I'm not going to suddenly be okay with his choices. If that's the final result then so be it." She didn't like it, but there were a lot of things she didn't agree with, and since she couldn't change this, the only way to live with what she knew was to distance herself from it. From him, them, the entirety of the Grounds – no doubt there would be no objections if she never set foot in the place again.
Letting out a slow breath, Maea rubbed at her temples, wishing the headache would go away. Still agitated enough to want to snap at Thalassa, she knew it was just pigheadedness and held her tongue. Turning over the terms and conditions in her mind, trying and failing to see when she'd been dishonest in the past. Apparently, not speaking counted as a lie? She did not agree with that, but if that was how the other woman saw things...
"Be friends with whomever you like," she replied wearily, as she returned to her armchair and slumped down into it. "I won't say another word about Asta or take his name in my mouth ever again, if that helps anything. I can't change the past, but I can promise to do better from now on." Hooking a leg over the armrest, Maea closed her eyes, finding that the dark helped ease the throbbing pain. "I would appreciate if you didn't throw threats around anymore. I don't read subtext very well - I'm always going to take your word seriously, so if you say you're going to do something, I'll believe you. And if you could stop calling me a liar for having opinions that differ from yours, I'd be grateful. That shit hurts."
A brief silence followed while she sorted through her thoughts, testing the limits of her tolerance like one might run the tongue over a broken tooth.
"In theory, I can see the logic of it, you know? There's life, and death, and all the complicated interactions in between that we call nature. Vi, Mort, Rae – all standing upon what Caido created, in balance. Then there's Dygra, who unmakes, who changes, disrupts balance and brings about new order, which again changes. I can accept that Dygra's children would view all of Caido's creations as fair game, in a purely theoretical context. The difficulty lies with me not being entirely Ancient." Physically, perhaps – 'in all the ways that matter' the goddess had said – but Maea wasn't sure that was true. "Unlike you, I still remember what it's like to live without bloodlust or fangs or these," she said, flicking a finger at her horns. There was a hollow sounding thunk as the nail connected, and she felt the impact, as always a bit disoriented whenever she really reflected on the added extremities. "I know what it's like to be hunted, and eaten, and it's very difficult for me to reconcile the drive to inflict those things upon others. What rankles the most is that I am compelled to do it; it is not a choice I can make freely, and I resent that. I also resent that I feel the same urges whether I look at a deer or a person walking down a road. It makes me sick, that I even have the capability of viewing someone like that. Like... meat. Like we're not the same, equally capable of laughter and tears and equally worthy of life. When standing face to face with someone who looks like me and talks like me and dreams like me, I can't accept that I'm supposed to prey on that person. No matter what any god says or intends. And I... find it extremely difficult, and distasteful, to have to turn a blind eye to that same practice being carried out elsewhere. Partly because I fear being included in any retaliation, yes. But also because I simply don't feel it's right. It goes against everything my father and brother taught me, growing up. I dishonor them every day I keep silent about an evil and let it perpetuate, and I dishonor myself by letting fear of consequences keep me from doing what I feel is right." She drew a long breath, and let it out again in a sharp sigh, impatient with the contradictions in her head. "But. As you so kindly pointed out, not everyone thinks like me. And I can't change the entire race. I can't even change myself. So as far as I can see, the alternative is that I do what I'm doing now; steering clear of the others, finding my own way – some kind of middle ground that I can live with, hopefully without going completely insane." Was that tolerance? Was it acceptance? In part, Maea knew it was at least avoidance, but if that was the best she could do at the time, it would have to suffice. Whether Thalassa accepted that or not... was up to her.
"How about we stop debating it, then, if it's a moot point anyway. He's not going to stop. I'm not going to suddenly be okay with his choices. If that's the final result then so be it." She didn't like it, but there were a lot of things she didn't agree with, and since she couldn't change this, the only way to live with what she knew was to distance herself from it. From him, them, the entirety of the Grounds – no doubt there would be no objections if she never set foot in the place again.
Letting out a slow breath, Maea rubbed at her temples, wishing the headache would go away. Still agitated enough to want to snap at Thalassa, she knew it was just pigheadedness and held her tongue. Turning over the terms and conditions in her mind, trying and failing to see when she'd been dishonest in the past. Apparently, not speaking counted as a lie? She did not agree with that, but if that was how the other woman saw things...
"Be friends with whomever you like," she replied wearily, as she returned to her armchair and slumped down into it. "I won't say another word about Asta or take his name in my mouth ever again, if that helps anything. I can't change the past, but I can promise to do better from now on." Hooking a leg over the armrest, Maea closed her eyes, finding that the dark helped ease the throbbing pain. "I would appreciate if you didn't throw threats around anymore. I don't read subtext very well - I'm always going to take your word seriously, so if you say you're going to do something, I'll believe you. And if you could stop calling me a liar for having opinions that differ from yours, I'd be grateful. That shit hurts."
A brief silence followed while she sorted through her thoughts, testing the limits of her tolerance like one might run the tongue over a broken tooth.
"In theory, I can see the logic of it, you know? There's life, and death, and all the complicated interactions in between that we call nature. Vi, Mort, Rae – all standing upon what Caido created, in balance. Then there's Dygra, who unmakes, who changes, disrupts balance and brings about new order, which again changes. I can accept that Dygra's children would view all of Caido's creations as fair game, in a purely theoretical context. The difficulty lies with me not being entirely Ancient." Physically, perhaps – 'in all the ways that matter' the goddess had said – but Maea wasn't sure that was true. "Unlike you, I still remember what it's like to live without bloodlust or fangs or these," she said, flicking a finger at her horns. There was a hollow sounding thunk as the nail connected, and she felt the impact, as always a bit disoriented whenever she really reflected on the added extremities. "I know what it's like to be hunted, and eaten, and it's very difficult for me to reconcile the drive to inflict those things upon others. What rankles the most is that I am compelled to do it; it is not a choice I can make freely, and I resent that. I also resent that I feel the same urges whether I look at a deer or a person walking down a road. It makes me sick, that I even have the capability of viewing someone like that. Like... meat. Like we're not the same, equally capable of laughter and tears and equally worthy of life. When standing face to face with someone who looks like me and talks like me and dreams like me, I can't accept that I'm supposed to prey on that person. No matter what any god says or intends. And I... find it extremely difficult, and distasteful, to have to turn a blind eye to that same practice being carried out elsewhere. Partly because I fear being included in any retaliation, yes. But also because I simply don't feel it's right. It goes against everything my father and brother taught me, growing up. I dishonor them every day I keep silent about an evil and let it perpetuate, and I dishonor myself by letting fear of consequences keep me from doing what I feel is right." She drew a long breath, and let it out again in a sharp sigh, impatient with the contradictions in her head. "But. As you so kindly pointed out, not everyone thinks like me. And I can't change the entire race. I can't even change myself. So as far as I can see, the alternative is that I do what I'm doing now; steering clear of the others, finding my own way – some kind of middle ground that I can live with, hopefully without going completely insane." Was that tolerance? Was it acceptance? In part, Maea knew it was at least avoidance, but if that was the best she could do at the time, it would have to suffice. Whether Thalassa accepted that or not... was up to her.
Maea
// May the wind be at your back //
