Maea
And I never know what to say
'Til I'm already walking away
While it wasn't the point of the fight to gain insights, once she opened herself up to these realizations they didn't stop coming. Like the fact that she could keep fighting despite all those sucking, awful emotions. The motions were ingrained, spinal reflex that kicked in whether she was having fun or not, whether she'd rather be anywhere but here... which actually wasn't true. Another flash of insight, that; emotions weren't truths. Maea was sure someone had told her as much at some point, but not until now did she fully understand what it meant.
Was it strange, to be gaining confidence in the middle of a beatdown? Just like her, though. She'd never done things the normal way.
Unfortunately for the both of them, Maea had quite a bit of endurance and the stamina to go on far beyond what was wise. Claws carved furrows in her skin, teeth punctured the scruff around her neck, and before long her pale coat was stained with blood. The ground hissed and smoldered where she landed, the molten steel of her stripes freckling green grass and mosses in shades of brown and black like charred pockmarks.
And still she got up. With bullheaded stubbornness, again and again and again until her body screamed in agony – because while she wasn't fighting her best fight, she was going to keep showing up until she no longer could. Call it what you will - justice or revenge or penance, it didn't matter - she was here, facing it.
Was it strange, to be gaining confidence in the middle of a beatdown? Just like her, though. She'd never done things the normal way.
Unfortunately for the both of them, Maea had quite a bit of endurance and the stamina to go on far beyond what was wise. Claws carved furrows in her skin, teeth punctured the scruff around her neck, and before long her pale coat was stained with blood. The ground hissed and smoldered where she landed, the molten steel of her stripes freckling green grass and mosses in shades of brown and black like charred pockmarks.
And still she got up. With bullheaded stubbornness, again and again and again until her body screamed in agony – because while she wasn't fighting her best fight, she was going to keep showing up until she no longer could. Call it what you will - justice or revenge or penance, it didn't matter - she was here, facing it.
Wanna punch you in the face
But I won't, but I might, but I won't
