Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
On days where the clouds lay heavy, even a ghost might enjoy some daylight. Even though it was wan and pale, and the sun merely a bleak disc somewhere beyond the drifting fog, it was a nice change.
That... was all the positivity Maea was able to muster. Mud clung to her boots as she trudged through the swamp, going nowhere. Without a destination in mind, every step was taken in drudgery, out of habit and because standing still in this place had proven dangerous. A fortunate thing, really, that neither sleep nor rest was needed when slumber might cover a face with pale white klaws that drained your essences away.
Everything was deadly. Everything that came here would die.
Perhaps that was why she had decided it was a good place to linger.
When a thin drizzle began to fall, she paused under the relative shelter of a tree. The damp did not really bother her, but she liked to pretend that by pulling the dark hood back and letting droplets roll down her cheek, she would look like she was crying. No one would ever see, of course, but... it was nice to pretend.
That... was all the positivity Maea was able to muster. Mud clung to her boots as she trudged through the swamp, going nowhere. Without a destination in mind, every step was taken in drudgery, out of habit and because standing still in this place had proven dangerous. A fortunate thing, really, that neither sleep nor rest was needed when slumber might cover a face with pale white klaws that drained your essences away.
Everything was deadly. Everything that came here would die.
Perhaps that was why she had decided it was a good place to linger.
When a thin drizzle began to fall, she paused under the relative shelter of a tree. The damp did not really bother her, but she liked to pretend that by pulling the dark hood back and letting droplets roll down her cheek, she would look like she was crying. No one would ever see, of course, but... it was nice to pretend.
