Maea
Rest against my pillow
like the aging winter sun
like the aging winter sun
She curled in on herself, more and more with every did you know. They were slaps to the face, a punch in the gut one example after the other, and lit up her selfishness like lightning strikes on a storm-black night.
"I didn't know," she all but whispered, sick to the stomach with guilt. "How could I... I wasn't there. And you didn't tell me." A weak excuse; she could have tried to find out. Somewhere in the chaos between stepping back into Torchline, being sent packing and that argument by the lighthouse, she could have tried to learn something about what had happened in the year since she passed. Her only defense was the shock of transformation, the pain of rejection... temporary insanity, perhaps, but she wouldn't even try to offer those up.
This wasn't about earning forgiveness, anyway. She had no right to expect it.
"I am sorry," she said all the same. And found to her surprise, that she actually meant it. For so long, she had been completely numb to her own actions. Almost satisfied with the streak of cold brutality she had uncovered in herself, like it was some kind of accomplishment. Finally she had not been weak anymore - ha. What a masterpiece of a lie. "For not going to you directly. For dragging innocents into my own problems. I was wrong." She bit her lip, and rubbed her eyes with scarred hands, fingers still puckered and wax-like from too close proximity to fire. A mark of guilt, really. "If you allow it, once he wakes up... I'd like a chance to apologize to Nate, as well. Make it up to him, somehow. Though I can understand if either of you would rather I just stay away."
It may be difficult, considering the war. But if that's what they agreed on, she would steer clear.
"I didn't know," she all but whispered, sick to the stomach with guilt. "How could I... I wasn't there. And you didn't tell me." A weak excuse; she could have tried to find out. Somewhere in the chaos between stepping back into Torchline, being sent packing and that argument by the lighthouse, she could have tried to learn something about what had happened in the year since she passed. Her only defense was the shock of transformation, the pain of rejection... temporary insanity, perhaps, but she wouldn't even try to offer those up.
This wasn't about earning forgiveness, anyway. She had no right to expect it.
"I am sorry," she said all the same. And found to her surprise, that she actually meant it. For so long, she had been completely numb to her own actions. Almost satisfied with the streak of cold brutality she had uncovered in herself, like it was some kind of accomplishment. Finally she had not been weak anymore - ha. What a masterpiece of a lie. "For not going to you directly. For dragging innocents into my own problems. I was wrong." She bit her lip, and rubbed her eyes with scarred hands, fingers still puckered and wax-like from too close proximity to fire. A mark of guilt, really. "If you allow it, once he wakes up... I'd like a chance to apologize to Nate, as well. Make it up to him, somehow. Though I can understand if either of you would rather I just stay away."
It may be difficult, considering the war. But if that's what they agreed on, she would steer clear.
Only wake each morning to
remember that you're gone
remember that you're gone
