Maea
And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die
It heals them when you die
She kept her eyes fixed on the rain, on the way the cobbled street speckled and darkened with damp, on the peddlers that hurriedly covered their wares with canvas as the weather deteriorated. She focused on the chill damp of the air (imagination, she couldn't feel it) and the pitter patter of water against stone (it was too loud, yet not enough to drown out the sound of his heartbeat).
His presence was a slow ache that gradually built, like the beginnings of a throbbing migraine. "Oh. What did you not do this time?" Because whether it actually was his fault or not, Sunjata always blamed everyone but himself. Sooner or later, he would always be the villain and victim of his own story. No matter what anyone said.
It took a concerted effort to pretend even a sliver of polite interest, and even that was forced. All she wanted to do was leave, rain be damned. But he might think she was running from him. That wouldn't do.
His presence was a slow ache that gradually built, like the beginnings of a throbbing migraine. "Oh. What did you not do this time?" Because whether it actually was his fault or not, Sunjata always blamed everyone but himself. Sooner or later, he would always be the villain and victim of his own story. No matter what anyone said.
It took a concerted effort to pretend even a sliver of polite interest, and even that was forced. All she wanted to do was leave, rain be damned. But he might think she was running from him. That wouldn't do.
And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh
A whisper within a sigh
