The coldest blood runs through my veins
Crossing the gangway was not unlike stepping onto hostile territory. The tension in the air was palpable, and eyes followed her as she crossed the deck and went up to where Thal was seated. Like an extention of their captain, influenced by her moods and loyalties, Maea did not doubt the argument was public knowledge among the crew by now, though the details likely remained a secret. For Astaroth's sake, not hers. That was fine. As she halted before the regal looking woman, Maea knew why she was given the silent treatment. It was more than her conflict with the Butcher that chafed between them, and it extended back a lot further than this particular argument.
For a while she simply looked at Thalassa, contemplating her options. Then she shrugged, and pulled her hands out of her pockets, holding them up for inspection. Otherwise smooth, ivory skin became puckered and wax like from the wrist, the entirety of both palms and fingers and the back of her hands looking like the skin had begun to melt, nearly sloughing off entirely.
"About ten years ago, I dated Sunjata. We broke up after only a season or so, but despite that I thought we had a chance to maybe repair things... Then I died, and he moved on. When the Voice brough a bunch of souls back from death as Ascended, I was one of them - a bargain I accepted, thinking there was something for me to return to." Speaking in a clear matter-of-fact tone, her gaze was trained on Thalassa, aware of the listening crew but disinterested in whatever satisfaction they might gain from eavesdropping. "As it turned out, I did not. He was married, and someone had used a dying message I wanted to give him as a way to blackmail him. It wasn't just that he was angry - he blamed me for dying and leaving him alone, and wanted nothing to do with me whatsoever." The unfairness of that still lit a fire in her head, infuriating as it was. Those matters were well and truly settled by now, but just thinking about it had her eyes flashing with a rare show of anger. "It fucking hurt. I'd sacrificed my allegiance to the Old Gods to get back to him, and he wouldn't even wish me welcome back? I wouldn't have it. So I made a plan. One that would force him to pay attention, whether he wanted to or not. Ascended fluid - our blood, basically - was highly flammable, so I tapped some of mine little by little until I had a decent stockpile. Then I picked a target. His husband at that time ran a small clinic, and I targeted that. Set it on fire." Her mouth quirked in a grimace, far from proud of what she'd done. "But, as I said... our blood was highly flammable. So when I handled fire, my hands became like this. And thanks to some very heroic Torchers, not only was the fire put out, but all of the patients were evacuated without anyone being harmed. Something I'm very grateful for, now."
Harrowing her bottom lip with sharp teeth, she eventually sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "That's who I am, when I stop caring. I become a coward, who'd take anger out on innocent people when things don't go my way instead of facing reality and moving on. I get obsessed with concepts, and with people, and dig my fingers into them until they break or bleed, because I'm afraid of being forgotten or left behind. Or, in the case of Jata, not being enough. And that," she said, breathing deeply as she finally reached the point of what she wanted to say, "is why I resist letting people close to me. I feel too much, too deeply, to the point where losing my people is like tearing pieces off my soul. It's scary, realizing what I would do just for a seat at someone's table. I don't... know how to keep doing that, how to keep starting over when someone always inevitably die or disappear. It's not a conscious decision to shut anyone out, at this point - it's become something I do automatically. Because I'm afraid, and struggle with trusting people around me with anything that could break. And... the whole thing with Asta, and Danta, and most of all the fight with you... made me realize that I can't keep going like this. I've got to change, or... as you said, I really will end up alone. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy."
She was talking too much again. Maea knew it, but also realised that she didn't have the skill with words to convey what she meant in a more elegant way. She could only count off the list of her debt towards her almost-sister on scarred fingers.
"I owe you another training session, a proper hunt, a sleepover at my house, several bottles of strong alcohol, food, two seasons of worry and angst, at least two daggers thrown into my door, help with numerous projects and a good grovel - and that's without accounting for the hurt I caused you by being so thick-headed last time. I... really don't think I should be forgiven for that. For making you feel like I would be better off without you. It... couldn't be further from the truth." Maea chewed anxiously the inside of her cheek – it sounded even worse to say it out loud like that. No wonder Thal was fed up.
"But. Even so, I would still like to ask you for the chance to repay all the kindness and support you have shown me, as I work on myself so I can become the kind of friend that you deserve. In whatever order you would prefer. If you will allow it." If there was any hope at all of mending this bridge between them before it was reduced to ashes.
For a while she simply looked at Thalassa, contemplating her options. Then she shrugged, and pulled her hands out of her pockets, holding them up for inspection. Otherwise smooth, ivory skin became puckered and wax like from the wrist, the entirety of both palms and fingers and the back of her hands looking like the skin had begun to melt, nearly sloughing off entirely.
"About ten years ago, I dated Sunjata. We broke up after only a season or so, but despite that I thought we had a chance to maybe repair things... Then I died, and he moved on. When the Voice brough a bunch of souls back from death as Ascended, I was one of them - a bargain I accepted, thinking there was something for me to return to." Speaking in a clear matter-of-fact tone, her gaze was trained on Thalassa, aware of the listening crew but disinterested in whatever satisfaction they might gain from eavesdropping. "As it turned out, I did not. He was married, and someone had used a dying message I wanted to give him as a way to blackmail him. It wasn't just that he was angry - he blamed me for dying and leaving him alone, and wanted nothing to do with me whatsoever." The unfairness of that still lit a fire in her head, infuriating as it was. Those matters were well and truly settled by now, but just thinking about it had her eyes flashing with a rare show of anger. "It fucking hurt. I'd sacrificed my allegiance to the Old Gods to get back to him, and he wouldn't even wish me welcome back? I wouldn't have it. So I made a plan. One that would force him to pay attention, whether he wanted to or not. Ascended fluid - our blood, basically - was highly flammable, so I tapped some of mine little by little until I had a decent stockpile. Then I picked a target. His husband at that time ran a small clinic, and I targeted that. Set it on fire." Her mouth quirked in a grimace, far from proud of what she'd done. "But, as I said... our blood was highly flammable. So when I handled fire, my hands became like this. And thanks to some very heroic Torchers, not only was the fire put out, but all of the patients were evacuated without anyone being harmed. Something I'm very grateful for, now."
Harrowing her bottom lip with sharp teeth, she eventually sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "That's who I am, when I stop caring. I become a coward, who'd take anger out on innocent people when things don't go my way instead of facing reality and moving on. I get obsessed with concepts, and with people, and dig my fingers into them until they break or bleed, because I'm afraid of being forgotten or left behind. Or, in the case of Jata, not being enough. And that," she said, breathing deeply as she finally reached the point of what she wanted to say, "is why I resist letting people close to me. I feel too much, too deeply, to the point where losing my people is like tearing pieces off my soul. It's scary, realizing what I would do just for a seat at someone's table. I don't... know how to keep doing that, how to keep starting over when someone always inevitably die or disappear. It's not a conscious decision to shut anyone out, at this point - it's become something I do automatically. Because I'm afraid, and struggle with trusting people around me with anything that could break. And... the whole thing with Asta, and Danta, and most of all the fight with you... made me realize that I can't keep going like this. I've got to change, or... as you said, I really will end up alone. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy."
She was talking too much again. Maea knew it, but also realised that she didn't have the skill with words to convey what she meant in a more elegant way. She could only count off the list of her debt towards her almost-sister on scarred fingers.
"I owe you another training session, a proper hunt, a sleepover at my house, several bottles of strong alcohol, food, two seasons of worry and angst, at least two daggers thrown into my door, help with numerous projects and a good grovel - and that's without accounting for the hurt I caused you by being so thick-headed last time. I... really don't think I should be forgiven for that. For making you feel like I would be better off without you. It... couldn't be further from the truth." Maea chewed anxiously the inside of her cheek – it sounded even worse to say it out loud like that. No wonder Thal was fed up.
"But. Even so, I would still like to ask you for the chance to repay all the kindness and support you have shown me, as I work on myself so I can become the kind of friend that you deserve. In whatever order you would prefer. If you will allow it." If there was any hope at all of mending this bridge between them before it was reduced to ashes.
You know my name
Table by Skylark
