Maea
And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die
It heals them when you die
Amun had told her to stay put in the Grounds, and for the most part, Maea obliged him. He had been right when he said she couldn't actually suffocate from being there, and he was technically correct that it wasn't a cage anymore. It just felt like one.
And just to test that theory, just to make sure that it was true, she broke her promise. It was a quiet morning, veiled in mist that crept low over the flower meadows and well tended paths of Mourn. It promised to be a cloudy day, drizzly and dreary, and it suited her mood just fine.
The damp crept through the tattered cloth of her garb, soaked through her hair until it hung flat and listless against the sides of her face. In her hand she carried a dagger, 'borrowed' from the storage by the training grounds; it danced in sharp circles around her fingers. Round and round. Up, over, down, up again. Spiraling wildly, just like her own thoughts.
A party. How did one arrange a party, again? There ought to be music, probably. And some food. Not everyone in the Grounds was Ascended yet, so food was a must. Drink, too. Not that she could enjoy it anymore - probably a good thing. It was Sunjata's habit to drown his misery in booze, not hers.
The dagger flashed out, furiously slashing off the burning orange of a flower from its stem.
The Flood still invaded her thoughts. Despite every attempt to banish him from there forever.
And just to test that theory, just to make sure that it was true, she broke her promise. It was a quiet morning, veiled in mist that crept low over the flower meadows and well tended paths of Mourn. It promised to be a cloudy day, drizzly and dreary, and it suited her mood just fine.
The damp crept through the tattered cloth of her garb, soaked through her hair until it hung flat and listless against the sides of her face. In her hand she carried a dagger, 'borrowed' from the storage by the training grounds; it danced in sharp circles around her fingers. Round and round. Up, over, down, up again. Spiraling wildly, just like her own thoughts.
A party. How did one arrange a party, again? There ought to be music, probably. And some food. Not everyone in the Grounds was Ascended yet, so food was a must. Drink, too. Not that she could enjoy it anymore - probably a good thing. It was Sunjata's habit to drown his misery in booze, not hers.
The dagger flashed out, furiously slashing off the burning orange of a flower from its stem.
The Flood still invaded her thoughts. Despite every attempt to banish him from there forever.
And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh
A whisper within a sigh
