You're so cold
but you feel alive
Resting her back against the rough planks of the wall, her pale eyes followed the spinning dagger from its dance on his fingers - had he always had that metal hand? She couldn't recall if it'd been there last time she saw him - to the pile where it had originated.
"Hm. So what are you committing to instead? Now that official bossing around of people is not an option?" There was a hint of a smile to the words, a ghost of the easy conversation they'd once held. And it broadened into a slightly bitter smile as he continued, turning towards her in earnest.
"What do you think I've been doing here?" She spread her arms, indicating the cleanup, the cleanse all around them. Aside from the pile before them and the one outside, there was hardly anything left in the vast space. Only dustmoats floating in the light, and unswept floor. A broken wagon wheel leaning against the far wall, too large for her to comfortably move on her own. "The sensible thing would be to try and repair the house and get the business up and running again. Find a man to marry, squeeze out some kids and ensure the survival of my family name."
It would be the traditional thing, too. The one expected of her, by all the traditionalists who lived in the farms around the Fields. The Valair's had held out for near three hundred years; now they might be proven right, all those slandering tongues who'd claimed the weak, sickly daughter of the household would bring them to ruin.
"Instead I'm selling. Leaving for something new. So... you tell me, am I changing? Perhaps it's just not fast enough to catch up with you all. I'm a year behind, after all..." Her tone was mild, but one could sense the pressure she felt. The pain, the rush, the desperate need to keep moving so that she would not indeed get stuck.
"Hm. So what are you committing to instead? Now that official bossing around of people is not an option?" There was a hint of a smile to the words, a ghost of the easy conversation they'd once held. And it broadened into a slightly bitter smile as he continued, turning towards her in earnest.
"What do you think I've been doing here?" She spread her arms, indicating the cleanup, the cleanse all around them. Aside from the pile before them and the one outside, there was hardly anything left in the vast space. Only dustmoats floating in the light, and unswept floor. A broken wagon wheel leaning against the far wall, too large for her to comfortably move on her own. "The sensible thing would be to try and repair the house and get the business up and running again. Find a man to marry, squeeze out some kids and ensure the survival of my family name."
It would be the traditional thing, too. The one expected of her, by all the traditionalists who lived in the farms around the Fields. The Valair's had held out for near three hundred years; now they might be proven right, all those slandering tongues who'd claimed the weak, sickly daughter of the household would bring them to ruin.
"Instead I'm selling. Leaving for something new. So... you tell me, am I changing? Perhaps it's just not fast enough to catch up with you all. I'm a year behind, after all..." Her tone was mild, but one could sense the pressure she felt. The pain, the rush, the desperate need to keep moving so that she would not indeed get stuck.
lay your hands on me
one last time
MAEA
