Ill-Made Martyr [Open]

MaeA He seemed so lost. Desperate, so serious in a staggering opposite to the casual witticism Adam had fallen back on in face of the unknown. Maea wasn't sure where exactly this person thought he had wound up, but it was clear he really wanted to get back. An ache settled in her chest at the thought; she knew what that feeling was like. If there was even the slightest chance that she could go back in time and change things, spend the week with her family... But even if the gods decided to listen to her prayers, even if she knew that Isla had died and been brought back.... She still meant what she said to Jigano when he told her about it. Sometimes, not getting what you wanted was better. Not for you, but for them. For everyone. Her family was dead, and she would let them stay dead. They did not have to suffer anymore now, if Mort was merciful. But this... this was different, and the midst of a busy street was not the place to have this discussion. Smiling towards the dark-haired man she offered him a hand and indicated that they should go back into the house. A quick glance around the room suggested it was quite unoccupied; the dust lay heavy on the floor and there were cracks in the wall through which bright sunlight spilled in, illuminating the dustmotes his hasty departure had stirred up. What a dreary place to end up in... and yet it could have been so much worse. "My name is Maea" the girl said, upon turning her attention back to the Outlander. That he was one was beyond doubt now, and she had a lot of things to break to him. But where to begin... "Where... where do you think you are now?" she asked, careful as if he might break if the raised her voice or made a sudden movement. you're so cold, but you feel alive.