You woke a fire inside of me
The grief in his voice hit her before the full impact of his words did, paving the way to understanding just what it was he had lost, what would never return, what kind of pit it was that had been opened in this kind man's soul. The first time they met, Noah had invited her into his home, into a kitchen that breathed of a domestic bliss few were ever blessed to experience. It appeared that bliss had been cut mercilessly short, and for a while Maea was lost for words as the usual platitudes in face of loss seemed wholly inadequate. But what else was there to say, or do? "I'm so sorry to hear that," she murmured eventually, painfully aware that it didn't mean much. "How are the children taking it?"
As the Forsaken sat down beside her, Maea reached a hand across to gently pat his hand. As awkward gestures went it held compassion enough; understanding, and the kind of quiet reassurance that if he wished to, she could talk him through the entire process of making glass, if it helped him rest his weary heart for an hour or three.
As the Forsaken sat down beside her, Maea reached a hand across to gently pat his hand. As awkward gestures went it held compassion enough; understanding, and the kind of quiet reassurance that if he wished to, she could talk him through the entire process of making glass, if it helped him rest his weary heart for an hour or three.
Maea
