Maeve
"It's not that I think that... I just didn't know they named them." Maeve mutters, tucking her chin towards her chest as if she'd been scolded, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. She knows why he's being so hard. Why he's being harsh. He has to be. It doesn't take the sting away. It's like he's angry and Maeve doesn't know if he's angry at her or the task. Maeve licks her lips as she reaches for the dagger, but he snatches it back, pinning her with cold eyes that are just as sharp as the blade. She's never been scared of him before, but in this moment her heart thunders in her chest, stomach turning violently. "I won't." The hilt of the blade is pressed into her palm and she draws in a shaky breath.
Locke explains what she's meant to do. Where she's meant to cut and that she has to go deep. No hesitation. Just fucking do it. Cold, calculated, and clean. That's what she has to be now. Maeve turns the dagger over in her hand, feeling the weight of the blade as she looks at the goat. She feels like she's going to be sick, but she presses forward anyway, moving around to the side before suddenly moving to straddle the animal. Her legs tighten on either of its sides, trying her best to hold it in place as she brings the dagger to one side of its jaw in that place Locke told her to.
The blade slides in cleanly and to her credit she doesn't hesitate as her free hand grabs the underside of its head, baring the throat of the animal as she draws the blade across her throat. The goat bleats, jerking as its legs wobble before collapsing into the ash as blood gushes hot and thick down the front of the goat, but Maeve holds on. Tears slip down her own cheeks and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying hard to keep it together as the last of the life drains from the goat. Her hand holding the dagger is covered in blood. Hot, sticky, and slick as it gets between her palm and the hilt of the dagger.
Finally the goat stops twitching, collapsed in the ash and Maeve releases her, stumbling away towards the underbrush. Her stomach twists violently and before she has a moment to even stop it, she's heaving, palms braced against her knees as the contents of her stomach is spilled just like the blood of her sacrifice.
Locke explains what she's meant to do. Where she's meant to cut and that she has to go deep. No hesitation. Just fucking do it. Cold, calculated, and clean. That's what she has to be now. Maeve turns the dagger over in her hand, feeling the weight of the blade as she looks at the goat. She feels like she's going to be sick, but she presses forward anyway, moving around to the side before suddenly moving to straddle the animal. Her legs tighten on either of its sides, trying her best to hold it in place as she brings the dagger to one side of its jaw in that place Locke told her to.
The blade slides in cleanly and to her credit she doesn't hesitate as her free hand grabs the underside of its head, baring the throat of the animal as she draws the blade across her throat. The goat bleats, jerking as its legs wobble before collapsing into the ash as blood gushes hot and thick down the front of the goat, but Maeve holds on. Tears slip down her own cheeks and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying hard to keep it together as the last of the life drains from the goat. Her hand holding the dagger is covered in blood. Hot, sticky, and slick as it gets between her palm and the hilt of the dagger.
Finally the goat stops twitching, collapsed in the ash and Maeve releases her, stumbling away towards the underbrush. Her stomach twists violently and before she has a moment to even stop it, she's heaving, palms braced against her knees as the contents of her stomach is spilled just like the blood of her sacrifice.
I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need
