Maea
Stars, hide your fires
Occasionally, a detour brought you to places you didn't know you needed to see. In the Greatwood, the forest lent a helping hand by whisking you this way or that, spitting you out on a path often or never traveled. Here, in the jungles of the Oerwoud, it took some intent to get truly lost. Once she had denied herself the wings, the keen senses of tiger and feirwe and any sense for direction acquired over years spent traveling the length and breadth of Caido, her feet did the rest. Following waterways upstream to their sources, ducking onto trails made by wild things and occasionally choosing to take the difficult path gradually brought Maea higher into the mountains. A dense heat kept her comfortable despite the way damp caused her clothes cling to the skin. Upon reaching a certain elevation, mist began to close in around her - clouds, really, thin yet dangerous enough to almost see her walking off a cliff at one point - and forced her to slow down.
How tempting it was, to take shortcuts. Just knowing that she could shift and merely fly away instilled a certain cockiness that she didn't approve of in herself, like having wings would solve all her problems. Sure, if she wanted to keep running for the rest of her life they might... but she did not. She'd sworn time and time again that she was done with that, and the realization that all her posturing around Asta stemmed from plain old fear of change was not only deeply humbling but intensely infuriating. Ruminating over it wasn't helping. Writing and discarding letters of apology didn't do anything either - she'd already done that, it simply wasn't sincere enough. Jumping in bed with someone just to prove that she could be chaotic was only posturing, more lies and deception - because she didn't actually want to do that. It wouldn't prove anything, it wouldn't show her anything that she didn't already know.
Fumbling blindly for some epiphany, something honest that she could embrace that she hadn't tried or allowed herself before, her feet took her along a narrow path that showed signs of recent activity. Varying sets of footprints, some feline, others herbivorous, suggested there was a wealth of prey nearby - and it had to be said, she very rarely let herself indulge in the hunt. Sometimes, sure, by accident. But like the times when the bloodbane drew out the darker shades of her personality, the rare instants had always been accompanied by guilt, self-loathing and a barrage of self-deprecation - all suppressing what so many of the other ancients seemed to be entirely comfortable with.
Was that it, then? The first step, the beginning of this quest she had set for herself? Look into the darkness. Properly face what frightened her. No more running, or hiding, or pretending. What had that book said... to 'sit with her emotions'? That's what she needed.
And to do that... she would need to find a target to practice on. Picking a set of prints at random, Maea swallowed back a half-panicked reluctance, realized that was the opposite of what she should do, paused on the very edge of a cliff with mist swirling in the void just past her right shoulder and breathed. In, and out. In, and out. Counting seconds, until her fists unclenched on their own, and she could see the ground again.
"It's alright," she told herself out loud, and took a step forward. "It's not dangerous. Just feelings... they won't kill you." Though it sure felt like it, by the third or fourth time she had to stop and breathe. If she caught up with anything edible at this pace, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
How tempting it was, to take shortcuts. Just knowing that she could shift and merely fly away instilled a certain cockiness that she didn't approve of in herself, like having wings would solve all her problems. Sure, if she wanted to keep running for the rest of her life they might... but she did not. She'd sworn time and time again that she was done with that, and the realization that all her posturing around Asta stemmed from plain old fear of change was not only deeply humbling but intensely infuriating. Ruminating over it wasn't helping. Writing and discarding letters of apology didn't do anything either - she'd already done that, it simply wasn't sincere enough. Jumping in bed with someone just to prove that she could be chaotic was only posturing, more lies and deception - because she didn't actually want to do that. It wouldn't prove anything, it wouldn't show her anything that she didn't already know.
Fumbling blindly for some epiphany, something honest that she could embrace that she hadn't tried or allowed herself before, her feet took her along a narrow path that showed signs of recent activity. Varying sets of footprints, some feline, others herbivorous, suggested there was a wealth of prey nearby - and it had to be said, she very rarely let herself indulge in the hunt. Sometimes, sure, by accident. But like the times when the bloodbane drew out the darker shades of her personality, the rare instants had always been accompanied by guilt, self-loathing and a barrage of self-deprecation - all suppressing what so many of the other ancients seemed to be entirely comfortable with.
Was that it, then? The first step, the beginning of this quest she had set for herself? Look into the darkness. Properly face what frightened her. No more running, or hiding, or pretending. What had that book said... to 'sit with her emotions'? That's what she needed.
And to do that... she would need to find a target to practice on. Picking a set of prints at random, Maea swallowed back a half-panicked reluctance, realized that was the opposite of what she should do, paused on the very edge of a cliff with mist swirling in the void just past her right shoulder and breathed. In, and out. In, and out. Counting seconds, until her fists unclenched on their own, and she could see the ground again.
"It's alright," she told herself out loud, and took a step forward. "It's not dangerous. Just feelings... they won't kill you." Though it sure felt like it, by the third or fourth time she had to stop and breathe. If she caught up with anything edible at this pace, it would be nothing short of a miracle.
Let not light see my black and deep desires
