Maea
The worst of all blessings
"If I bundle up, yeah," she said. "I hear the snow doesn't settle as deeply here as in the Grounds, and I made it through there. I'll miss the portal directly into the Climb, though." She looked forward to seeing the forest dressed in white, how the colors faded to monochrome and all sounds must mute during snowfall. "Is it strange that it's still my favorite season?" Angling her head back to peer up at Liam, there was an impish look on her face. "I used to throw a mean snowball... Bet I can still manage a few throws before my fingers fall off." It was absolutely a challenge.
But thinking back wasn't only pleasant, and speaking of her childhood meant facing the worst along with whatever glimmer of good she could recall. "It was," she agreed, matter-of-fact, as anything else would have been a lie. "We were dying, along with the land. That was the whole point of it; to trap the Voice and kill her followers. Everyone else was simply collateral damage. If it weren't for the outlanders, we'd still be dying. I'd have been blind by now, or maybe dead - I was always sick as a child, and it took a master healer from another world to fix me."
She hadn't thought about Loren for years, yet his absence was still felt. His, and Amun's, and Weaver and Jigano - even Amalia, for all that they hadn't been friends since they were kids. "You know Evie, Deimos' wife? We and another girl grew up together. Not sure if we were friends, really, or if we still are... anyway, they kept me company because Amalia's mother was a healer. I watched them play outside my window on the bad days, joined them on the better ones..." Her voice trailed off. This was starting to sound very depressing. Rubbing the side of her nose, she drew in a slow breath and fumbled for something else to share, some story that wasn't bleak and dreary and laced through with inferiority complex and poverty. "I used to sneak out at night during the summers," she recalled, actually smiling at that. "I couldn't use magic in the house, so I went out into the orchard - we reared sheep and grew apples - and I played at being a great magician, sometimes until dawn. Sometimes Noah joined me, telling stories and sneaking bottles of grandpa's cider. I don't know how we never got caught, in a house full of people." It amused her now, even though it's had been a dangerous game back then. Not because her father had been violent or anything like that - he never had to raise a hand or even his voice to express his disappointment when they failed to adhere to his rules. That was always worse, somehow. Knowing you'd let him down by not being better.
But thinking back wasn't only pleasant, and speaking of her childhood meant facing the worst along with whatever glimmer of good she could recall. "It was," she agreed, matter-of-fact, as anything else would have been a lie. "We were dying, along with the land. That was the whole point of it; to trap the Voice and kill her followers. Everyone else was simply collateral damage. If it weren't for the outlanders, we'd still be dying. I'd have been blind by now, or maybe dead - I was always sick as a child, and it took a master healer from another world to fix me."
She hadn't thought about Loren for years, yet his absence was still felt. His, and Amun's, and Weaver and Jigano - even Amalia, for all that they hadn't been friends since they were kids. "You know Evie, Deimos' wife? We and another girl grew up together. Not sure if we were friends, really, or if we still are... anyway, they kept me company because Amalia's mother was a healer. I watched them play outside my window on the bad days, joined them on the better ones..." Her voice trailed off. This was starting to sound very depressing. Rubbing the side of her nose, she drew in a slow breath and fumbled for something else to share, some story that wasn't bleak and dreary and laced through with inferiority complex and poverty. "I used to sneak out at night during the summers," she recalled, actually smiling at that. "I couldn't use magic in the house, so I went out into the orchard - we reared sheep and grew apples - and I played at being a great magician, sometimes until dawn. Sometimes Noah joined me, telling stories and sneaking bottles of grandpa's cider. I don't know how we never got caught, in a house full of people." It amused her now, even though it's had been a dangerous game back then. Not because her father had been violent or anything like that - he never had to raise a hand or even his voice to express his disappointment when they failed to adhere to his rules. That was always worse, somehow. Knowing you'd let him down by not being better.
The most beautiful of curses
Base by Skylark
