MAEA
It was, perhaps, one of the hardest things she'd done. To look up at him and shake her head, to forgive him even as she pretended this hadn't been her own choice. But though she ached to lean back in, to throw all caution to the wind and just flow with him, this game... had already gone too far.
"It's.. okay" she said, voice soft, a little hoarse. Quite sad, as her little reply suggested it was not in fact, okay at all. Even the tone was a lie, suggesting she was glad he let her go when in fact she was aching for him to hold on, keep her still, kiss her again. But it was a necessary deception. For her own sake. For Phoebe's. For his, even if he seemed oblivious to the damage this was doing to himself. Ought to be doing, at least, if he cared half as much as he so far made her believe.
Quite gently she freed herself from his arms and let the river carry her away from the warmth he offered. For a moment Maea just let herself drift, then began to make her way towards the shore. It was very difficult not to look back at him, to see what her words might be doing to him - he'd asked and she'd practically said yes, but now that she changed her mind and let him believe he'd hurt her...? - but she kept her eyes fixed on the gryphon and the basket, on the clothes and the path that would lead her away from here.
Not right away, of course. She wasn't angry, or hurt (not quite) just... not up for doing this any more. There was room for more words, reassurances, apologies perhaps. But no more hugs. No more kisses or confidences.
No more secrets to weigh her down next time she tried to look a friend in the eye.
"It's.. okay" she said, voice soft, a little hoarse. Quite sad, as her little reply suggested it was not in fact, okay at all. Even the tone was a lie, suggesting she was glad he let her go when in fact she was aching for him to hold on, keep her still, kiss her again. But it was a necessary deception. For her own sake. For Phoebe's. For his, even if he seemed oblivious to the damage this was doing to himself. Ought to be doing, at least, if he cared half as much as he so far made her believe.
Quite gently she freed herself from his arms and let the river carry her away from the warmth he offered. For a moment Maea just let herself drift, then began to make her way towards the shore. It was very difficult not to look back at him, to see what her words might be doing to him - he'd asked and she'd practically said yes, but now that she changed her mind and let him believe he'd hurt her...? - but she kept her eyes fixed on the gryphon and the basket, on the clothes and the path that would lead her away from here.
Not right away, of course. She wasn't angry, or hurt (not quite) just... not up for doing this any more. There was room for more words, reassurances, apologies perhaps. But no more hugs. No more kisses or confidences.
No more secrets to weigh her down next time she tried to look a friend in the eye.
