Maea
give me shelter, or show me heart
Seeing Wessex with her lantern of bone reminded Maea of the festival to come. And while there would always be those whose losses lingered in her mind, this year she felt a need to do things a bit differently.
In the cover of night, as an old moon tainted the crests of rolling waves with its pallid light she made her way out to the moving islands of Kuali'i. It took no small amount of courage to cross the water in her little row boat. Memories of the last time she ventured out to sea were ingrained in her subconscious, and every rise and swell of glittering water contained the ghost of whales, of bitter regrets and longing. By the time she made it to shore and could jump out onto the shifting sand she was already exhausted. But there was no time to waste. She had to be gone come morning, or risk exposure to the dangerous Torchline sun.
On bare feet, Maea began to pick her way along the shoreline and stopped every once in a while to examine a seashell, a piece of driftwood or other washed up debris. Whenever she discovered something that shifted in white, she collected the item and stashed it into a fold of her coat. The pockets were already full to bursting with crafting materials.
When she could carry no more, she settled on the beach and spread the items before her. Sorting and selecting the items that touched her heart, and brought old memories back into focus.
In the cover of night, as an old moon tainted the crests of rolling waves with its pallid light she made her way out to the moving islands of Kuali'i. It took no small amount of courage to cross the water in her little row boat. Memories of the last time she ventured out to sea were ingrained in her subconscious, and every rise and swell of glittering water contained the ghost of whales, of bitter regrets and longing. By the time she made it to shore and could jump out onto the shifting sand she was already exhausted. But there was no time to waste. She had to be gone come morning, or risk exposure to the dangerous Torchline sun.
On bare feet, Maea began to pick her way along the shoreline and stopped every once in a while to examine a seashell, a piece of driftwood or other washed up debris. Whenever she discovered something that shifted in white, she collected the item and stashed it into a fold of her coat. The pockets were already full to bursting with crafting materials.
When she could carry no more, she settled on the beach and spread the items before her. Sorting and selecting the items that touched her heart, and brought old memories back into focus.
watch me fall apart
and I'll be yours to keep
and I'll be yours to keep
