My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room
Walks weren't something Maeve did much of before. Usually her time was filled with working. It still is, but not the same as before. This work is harder. Strenuous. It strains her body, pushing it to the limit, making her do things she hasn't before. Maeve misses the easier night. Where she simply had to use her body and her mind for witty banter and pleasure. Giving and receiving whispered compliments and sly touches. Part of her longs for that attention again. If only because it was so familiar. So comforting. That isn't on the table for some time. So instead she walks.
Her feet carry her across the sands, back towards that cathedral of glass, Aidon bounding ahead of her and sniffing at everything in his path, picking up shells occasionally to bring back to her like he did with Melita. Maeve accepts each one, slipping them into her pockets for safe keeping as she strolls, the sun sinking down below the horizon to paint the sky. Burning reds, fiery oranges, and gentle strokes of pink flaring out across the clouds. She's lost in thought, barely paying any mind to her surroundings, mind wandering over all the recent events that have plagued the shores of her home.
Her feet carry her across the sands, back towards that cathedral of glass, Aidon bounding ahead of her and sniffing at everything in his path, picking up shells occasionally to bring back to her like he did with Melita. Maeve accepts each one, slipping them into her pockets for safe keeping as she strolls, the sun sinking down below the horizon to paint the sky. Burning reds, fiery oranges, and gentle strokes of pink flaring out across the clouds. She's lost in thought, barely paying any mind to her surroundings, mind wandering over all the recent events that have plagued the shores of her home.
Maeve
