I thought you said forever over and over
Liam sat at the kitchen table in his cottage, drumming his fingers on the dark wood. A cup of coffee sat untouched in front of him, and hazel eyes were trained, unseeing, on the door. He'd gotten up that morning, just like every morning before, and made his way to Maea's treehouse, only to find it empty. Again. Disappointment was bitter on his tongue as he made himself take a sip of coffee, only to find that it had grown cold. Making a face, the soldier rose from the table and dumped the rest of the beverage down the drain.
He'd come home after the masquerade, expecting to find Maea there and ready to provide some kind of explanation for why she'd shifted into a dragon in the middle of Ludo's party and subsequently been kicked out. When she didn't immediately return, he'd been only mildly concerned, but thought that perhaps she'd needed to cool off, or maybe she wanted to satisfy her bloodlust before returning, both of which had been fair reasons to stay away. But as days passed, he grew worried. What if something had happened?
What if she never came back?
Fear was an ever-present ghost in the back of his mind as he went about his daily tasks, going through the motions until he thought he might scream from the monotony of it all. He wanted to go looking for Maea, to hunt her down and reassure himself that she was alive and well. But he wouldn't even know where to start. No, the best place for him - the only place for him - was to wait for her. But he'd never been one for twiddling his thumbs, and the strain of it was starting to wear on him. It was a subtle shift, but one that would be noticeable to someone who knew him well: a shadow of stubble on his chin, faint circles beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, slightly tousled hair from where he'd run his hands through it one too many times. Maea would see it on him immediately, the worry - whenever she returned.
If she returned.
Growling with frustration, he made for the door. Sitting inside and sulking would do no one any good. He might as well go chop some firewood outside the cottage while he waited to see if his partner would choose today to return. And if she did, then that's where she would find him: axe in hand, at a chopping block in the front yard, hacking away at blocks of wood in preparation for Deepfrost.
He'd come home after the masquerade, expecting to find Maea there and ready to provide some kind of explanation for why she'd shifted into a dragon in the middle of Ludo's party and subsequently been kicked out. When she didn't immediately return, he'd been only mildly concerned, but thought that perhaps she'd needed to cool off, or maybe she wanted to satisfy her bloodlust before returning, both of which had been fair reasons to stay away. But as days passed, he grew worried. What if something had happened?
What if she never came back?
Fear was an ever-present ghost in the back of his mind as he went about his daily tasks, going through the motions until he thought he might scream from the monotony of it all. He wanted to go looking for Maea, to hunt her down and reassure himself that she was alive and well. But he wouldn't even know where to start. No, the best place for him - the only place for him - was to wait for her. But he'd never been one for twiddling his thumbs, and the strain of it was starting to wear on him. It was a subtle shift, but one that would be noticeable to someone who knew him well: a shadow of stubble on his chin, faint circles beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, slightly tousled hair from where he'd run his hands through it one too many times. Maea would see it on him immediately, the worry - whenever she returned.
If she returned.
Growling with frustration, he made for the door. Sitting inside and sulking would do no one any good. He might as well go chop some firewood outside the cottage while he waited to see if his partner would choose today to return. And if she did, then that's where she would find him: axe in hand, at a chopping block in the front yard, hacking away at blocks of wood in preparation for Deepfrost.
A sleepless night becomes bitter oblivion
Liam
