I thought you said forever over and over
Liam?
Her voice was in his head, he was sure of it. He was imagining things, wishing that she would appear. Maybe he'd finally gone mad, and this was the result.
But then he looked up.
Maea stood a short distance away in the costume from the masquerade, her long hair hanging limply around her pale face. Her dress was torn at the shoulder, though she'd had time to mend it; a layer of dust seemed to have settled upon her, perhaps from her travels. She was, in no uncertain terms, a mess - and yet, she'd never appeared more beautiful to Liam than she did at that moment. She was here. She was alive.
"Maea," he breathed.
His axe thudded into the chopping block, missing the log he'd been about to half entirely. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides, sweeping Maea into a tight embrace that simultaneously cradled her like something precious and threatened to crush her against his ribs. Then he drew back, his hands resting on her shoulders. Worried eyes skimmed her from head to toe and back again, checking for signs of injury, noting any place where she didn't seem entirely herself. "Are you alright?" Not where have you been or why did you leave me or any of the other thoughts swirling through his mind. Those were secondary, questions to be asked and answered later. First and foremost: "Are you hurt?"
Her voice was in his head, he was sure of it. He was imagining things, wishing that she would appear. Maybe he'd finally gone mad, and this was the result.
But then he looked up.
Maea stood a short distance away in the costume from the masquerade, her long hair hanging limply around her pale face. Her dress was torn at the shoulder, though she'd had time to mend it; a layer of dust seemed to have settled upon her, perhaps from her travels. She was, in no uncertain terms, a mess - and yet, she'd never appeared more beautiful to Liam than she did at that moment. She was here. She was alive.
"Maea," he breathed.
His axe thudded into the chopping block, missing the log he'd been about to half entirely. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides, sweeping Maea into a tight embrace that simultaneously cradled her like something precious and threatened to crush her against his ribs. Then he drew back, his hands resting on her shoulders. Worried eyes skimmed her from head to toe and back again, checking for signs of injury, noting any place where she didn't seem entirely herself. "Are you alright?" Not where have you been or why did you leave me or any of the other thoughts swirling through his mind. Those were secondary, questions to be asked and answered later. First and foremost: "Are you hurt?"
A sleepless night becomes bitter oblivion
Liam
