m a e a
here comes the sun
smiling down
smiling down
Silence, long and protruded, grated her nerves like so much work down cord (it wasn't really, just a matter of seconds) before a dog barked and a voice called from one of the outlying buildings. The workshop. Right, because the work never ended... you either dealt with it or allowed the tasks to sit untouched, a growing pile of guilt that would always be there.
Holding on to the things she had brought, Maea turned back and let Rory's call guide her to where he was. His farm was not entirely foreign ground to her, but she was not feeling at home either as she tapped carefully at the workshop door and entered. The scent of leather and glue, dyes and old house that rushed in to greet her was strong but not unpleasant; she found the man within immediately, hard at work, and gave him a tentative smile.
"Hi Rory. Is this a bad time?"
Was there ever a good time, really? Their last exchange har been far from pleasant, and Maea felt the words he'd thrown out hovering awkwardly in the air between them. And that was the whole reason she had come, wasn't it?
