growing roses in the disarray

MAEA

Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering

Loren's voice sounded quite distant as he spoke to her. Far off, somehow. But she let it steady her, remind her of where she was, that it was all just... bad memories. Not real, not anymore. If her lips trembled under the strain of holding back tears along with the magic, he did not comment on it.

Breathing in. Breathing out. In, and out. She made herself feel the connections he described, let his words bring them back into existence. After a time, she could relax again. Became aware of how he coaxed the ice from her, took it over and made it his own.

But as if to respond to her renewed awareness of it, the magic surged in her, like a living thing. Perhaps it was, perhaps it was just the turmoil of her thoughts that brought it on, but it tried to spike out from her skin like so many sharp needles. Protective, defensive, as if to shield her from whatever it was that caused her pain.

Gasping in sudden horror as she tried to grasp the ice and hold it back, Maea snapped her eyes open. Again it slipped from her, just like it had before. Like wet soap, just... gliding away out of her mental fingers.

Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin