Maea
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb
The murmur of bells on the wind echoed the flickering candles as though tiny voices whispered back and forth, rising and falling in pace with bobbing and swaying light. Maea's hands felt awkward and empty without adding another chime to the chorus. She had forgotten all about the festival, wrapped up in her books, to the point of realizing with a jolt of dismay just last nnight that Longnight was fast approaching without her having prepped at all. This would have been a disaster, once. But as she poured mulled cider for herself and watched steam dissolve into the mild air, she admitted quietly to herself that it felt good, too. Peace, or something akin to it, had eased tension from nerves wound perpetually taught, and as she strolled slowly past the laden tables picking morsels onto a plate for herself, her attention lingered more on the wonders of the furnishings than the people that gathered around to celebrate. A distant smile curled the corners of her lips, in quiet delight over the organic shapes and subtle whimsy of the scene. Perfectly practical, wonderfully simple; remove the peoople and the food and tomorrow none would even know there had been a gathering at all. All these trampling feet would lift from the mossy carpet, birds and grubs would clear away any scraps, and when the sun dawned in the new year, the forest could get to work on covering the tables and chairs with vines.
Would that she could detach herself from a place so easily. But the roots of the Greatwood was tying themselves into knots around her heart, and nevermind the growing sense of suffocation that haunted her some days. It wasn't the forest that bothered her, she knew that; it was an old sickness rearing its ugly head. Taking her plate and her drink, Maea laid claim to one of the hammocks and slumped into it, gently rocking it to and fro while she ate, quietly watching strangers mill this way and that while mulling over the wanderlust and its causes. Considering options. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Liam; his absence contributed to a moldering ache in her bones, that she couldn't wait to get rid of.
Would that she could detach herself from a place so easily. But the roots of the Greatwood was tying themselves into knots around her heart, and nevermind the growing sense of suffocation that haunted her some days. It wasn't the forest that bothered her, she knew that; it was an old sickness rearing its ugly head. Taking her plate and her drink, Maea laid claim to one of the hammocks and slumped into it, gently rocking it to and fro while she ate, quietly watching strangers mill this way and that while mulling over the wanderlust and its causes. Considering options. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Liam; his absence contributed to a moldering ache in her bones, that she couldn't wait to get rid of.
And I remember thinking — I want to be like them
