The smile he gave her reassurance did not lose its sadness, for much had happened since she had gone. She had not been the only one to disappear, not even among the Loreseekers. More, Safrin had reprimanded him harshly for his own claims to promises he could not keep. Words like 'I won't leave you,' or 'You're the most important thing to me.'
Or 'You'll be okay.'
He said nothing while Maea reminisced, only nodded along and looked at her from time to time as he listened to a little bit more of the past come to light, letting her speak at her own pace. The moon was thin but struck a ghostly halo around her white hair. It wasn't quite the same tale that Amalia would tell, he thought ruefully, or Evie for that matter, the Wordsworth daughter a friend of his now as well. Each young woman had their own lens that they saw the past through, different still than Rory's and Sam's. That Amalia and Maea had never been close, though, that was consistent. That Amalia's mother had spent more time with Maea than her own daughter was as well.
They were certainly an interesting pair. Amalia, beloved of Safrin and Maea, who danced with Ludo, each with divine gifts to show their status with their respective gods. Lovers though Mort and Vi might be, Ludo and Safrin always seemed to strike sparks from one another. It was not so far-fetched that those who would one day become their devotees would do the same.
His throat tightened and he swallowed an unexpected lump at Maea's disarming openness and honesty, the truth she spilled so unself-consciously. He nodded a little jerkily at the envy. "It is never easy, being the one left behind. The one who never quite makes the difference," he agreed softly. "There is... a great deal of that going around right now, I suspect. Loren, a recent addition to the Loreseekers, and Phoebe fought the monster that attacked the festival. Because they could not stop it, Remi nearly died. His and Ronin's daughter... did." He paused to swallow again, hearing Loren's hollow mental voice in his head once more as the Launceleyn had recounted the news. "I think they will long be asking themselves what would have happened had others been there in their places. But Ronin... he went mad with grief and attacked the Temple and the Shrine. I was with those who tried to stop him but... we failed as well. And Amalia is hurt because I didn't pause to make sure she got out of the building before I did. As Deimos or Remi would have done." He would have survived. He would have hurt, but he was sure he would have survived it, somehow. Instead he had fled, thinking her right behind him when...
When she hadn't been.
And those that blamed him for her injuries? They were right. He hadn't succeeded and because of that, others had suffered for his weakness.
"Even so, many others don't even have their lives. Everyone is asking what more they could have done, or what they could have done differently. If only we'd had more strength or magic or cunning or... something. None of us were enough that day." He shook his head turning to give his guildmate a wry, sad smile. "In hindsight, I wish someone had succeeded. I would rather be jealous than in mourning." A different way to look at the world, a lesson hard-learned and unwanted, and perhaps one Maea wasn't yet ready for yet. Gods knew he still clung to his own petty jealousies long past when he should have let them die and moved on with his life.
Or 'You'll be okay.'
He said nothing while Maea reminisced, only nodded along and looked at her from time to time as he listened to a little bit more of the past come to light, letting her speak at her own pace. The moon was thin but struck a ghostly halo around her white hair. It wasn't quite the same tale that Amalia would tell, he thought ruefully, or Evie for that matter, the Wordsworth daughter a friend of his now as well. Each young woman had their own lens that they saw the past through, different still than Rory's and Sam's. That Amalia and Maea had never been close, though, that was consistent. That Amalia's mother had spent more time with Maea than her own daughter was as well.
They were certainly an interesting pair. Amalia, beloved of Safrin and Maea, who danced with Ludo, each with divine gifts to show their status with their respective gods. Lovers though Mort and Vi might be, Ludo and Safrin always seemed to strike sparks from one another. It was not so far-fetched that those who would one day become their devotees would do the same.
His throat tightened and he swallowed an unexpected lump at Maea's disarming openness and honesty, the truth she spilled so unself-consciously. He nodded a little jerkily at the envy. "It is never easy, being the one left behind. The one who never quite makes the difference," he agreed softly. "There is... a great deal of that going around right now, I suspect. Loren, a recent addition to the Loreseekers, and Phoebe fought the monster that attacked the festival. Because they could not stop it, Remi nearly died. His and Ronin's daughter... did." He paused to swallow again, hearing Loren's hollow mental voice in his head once more as the Launceleyn had recounted the news. "I think they will long be asking themselves what would have happened had others been there in their places. But Ronin... he went mad with grief and attacked the Temple and the Shrine. I was with those who tried to stop him but... we failed as well. And Amalia is hurt because I didn't pause to make sure she got out of the building before I did. As Deimos or Remi would have done." He would have survived. He would have hurt, but he was sure he would have survived it, somehow. Instead he had fled, thinking her right behind him when...
When she hadn't been.
And those that blamed him for her injuries? They were right. He hadn't succeeded and because of that, others had suffered for his weakness.
"Even so, many others don't even have their lives. Everyone is asking what more they could have done, or what they could have done differently. If only we'd had more strength or magic or cunning or... something. None of us were enough that day." He shook his head turning to give his guildmate a wry, sad smile. "In hindsight, I wish someone had succeeded. I would rather be jealous than in mourning." A different way to look at the world, a lesson hard-learned and unwanted, and perhaps one Maea wasn't yet ready for yet. Gods knew he still clung to his own petty jealousies long past when he should have let them die and moved on with his life.
