With every broken bone, I swear I lived
For a fleeting moment she really thought it was Liam. The way she was gathering up, held close, the gilded shade as a silhouette blotted out the sky - it was almost right. But the shape of her name from those lips was wrong, and the rasp of that voice was different. Not unfamiliar, but not right either.
Suddenly the point of connection against her scalp felt intrusive, the cradling arms like a trap she'd almost fallen into. Shoving herself out of the hold, Maea splashed back into the lower basin and sat up, unmoored and dizzy - betrayed by the absence of the one she actually wanted to be comforted by.
"Oh. It's you." The eyes that cleared upon the Sentinel held a flat expression, like the Halo tundra after a windstorm. Cool and cutting yet somehow brittle; the droplets falling from her soaked hair were pink, still seeping with blood.
Maybe she should be angry; but no anger came. Then, perhaps she should be remorseful? She had picked this fight, after all. Turned Lena's caution into a prophecy, and reduced the pleasure of the dragon's fierce strength into ashes on her tongue. Gazing at Noah's stricken expression... had her curling up in the fountain, knees hugged tight to the chest while water dribbled and splashed over the middle tier unto her shoulder. Healing it, erasing bruises and scars until no proof remained that anything ever happened.
Only they knew.
"It's alright. I started it. It's not your fault." Not the injury, or the fall or even this numb wasteland spreading through her chest. Tasting like shame, showing her a glimpse of what she'd truly done to Astaroth, smothering the flame of haughty overconfidence until only white ash remained. Gods, she couldn't breathe for the weight of it.
Suddenly the point of connection against her scalp felt intrusive, the cradling arms like a trap she'd almost fallen into. Shoving herself out of the hold, Maea splashed back into the lower basin and sat up, unmoored and dizzy - betrayed by the absence of the one she actually wanted to be comforted by.
"Oh. It's you." The eyes that cleared upon the Sentinel held a flat expression, like the Halo tundra after a windstorm. Cool and cutting yet somehow brittle; the droplets falling from her soaked hair were pink, still seeping with blood.
Maybe she should be angry; but no anger came. Then, perhaps she should be remorseful? She had picked this fight, after all. Turned Lena's caution into a prophecy, and reduced the pleasure of the dragon's fierce strength into ashes on her tongue. Gazing at Noah's stricken expression... had her curling up in the fountain, knees hugged tight to the chest while water dribbled and splashed over the middle tier unto her shoulder. Healing it, erasing bruises and scars until no proof remained that anything ever happened.
Only they knew.
"It's alright. I started it. It's not your fault." Not the injury, or the fall or even this numb wasteland spreading through her chest. Tasting like shame, showing her a glimpse of what she'd truly done to Astaroth, smothering the flame of haughty overconfidence until only white ash remained. Gods, she couldn't breathe for the weight of it.
maea
