Maea
I am out with lanterns
For a moment Maea's hands hovered in the air, until it became clear that her gesture was being rejected. Falling down to hang simply by her sides, she didn't quite shrug but simply stepped aside when the other woman began picking scattered petals and fruits off the ground. Guilt stirred within, habitual and reflexive; apparently she'd gotten in the way again. Messed things up again, ruined someone's day again – she stepped back from the shrine, carefully moving away from scattered offerings so she wouldn't accidentally crush them more than she already had.
"I'm sorry. Can I help you put it back?" She didn't try to help, not right away. Experience had shown that trying to fix things sometimes made it worse than leaving it alone, and that she seemed incapable of understanding when to do what. Better to just ask, to stop trying to do the right things before she'd been told what was correct to care about.
"Yes. And getting to know the dragon. I'm not used to... taking up space." It really did seem to be something she should be apologising for - or maybe that was also a habitual way of thinking she needed to discard. It was confusing; on one hand she shouldn't have to shrink to fit in with others, but she also needed to be considerate, pay attention to her surroundings, not be a nuisance while also be confident and act according to her own beliefs. 'Everything in moderation', she'd been told... but why did that leave her with this suffocating pressure around the chest, like she couldn't breathe?
"Do you come here often?"
"I'm sorry. Can I help you put it back?" She didn't try to help, not right away. Experience had shown that trying to fix things sometimes made it worse than leaving it alone, and that she seemed incapable of understanding when to do what. Better to just ask, to stop trying to do the right things before she'd been told what was correct to care about.
"Yes. And getting to know the dragon. I'm not used to... taking up space." It really did seem to be something she should be apologising for - or maybe that was also a habitual way of thinking she needed to discard. It was confusing; on one hand she shouldn't have to shrink to fit in with others, but she also needed to be considerate, pay attention to her surroundings, not be a nuisance while also be confident and act according to her own beliefs. 'Everything in moderation', she'd been told... but why did that leave her with this suffocating pressure around the chest, like she couldn't breathe?
"Do you come here often?"
Looking for myself
