[SE] and I'm a shadow of a ghost

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Maea waited patiently for the reply. Noted the glances down at the weapon in her hands, around the room, the skeptical arch of a brow when she'd spoken of hope. She was surprised about the lack of comment, expecting to hear that she was foolish to wait for however long for someone else to make up their mind... and Maea was glad for the silence. Didn't need to be told what she already knew.

Then came the answer, short and noncommittal, but at least a reply. "Thank you," she smiled. "Will I reach you here, or in Torchline?" The girl had said she still lived here when Sunjata asked before,  but that was perhaps not something to take for granted. Not with Sunjata moving out.

Turning the weapon in her hands, Maea headed for the bags, for the door... but then she paused, and gave Melita a thoughtful look. "You don't happen to know anything about archery, do you?"

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

MELITA

For a youth usually blunt and tenacious in her words, Melita found she didn’t have an accurate answer for Maea’s first inquiry. “I don’t know. I might be out at sea.” If her job, if her occupation, actually took hold, took root, gave her something to entangle and wrap herself around instead of wandering along and hurtling her staff at those she found irritating. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.” The notion was meant to be encouraging; there were other means and methods to communication, so the honeybee child assumed Maea would be able to enable a solution if Melita wasn’t around to accept the correspondence.

Her eyes narrowed in speculation, in study, in skepticism as the pale woman turned upon her again. She was half-tempted to be a petulant brat again and say no; except she did know a lot about the subject, about the topic, held the callouses worn into her palms, had the strength of pulling the string taut and tight time and time again. “I do.” Likely more than Maea, which satisfied her mercurial whims for the moment.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

A vague reply, but Maea simply nodded her understanding. Knew what it meant to lead a vagrant lifestyle, even if hers had only begun a season ago. She would find a way to contact Melita when the time came, if it came... and that was that.

And could have remained so, had the girl not answered Maea's question. But she did, and with enough confidence that the white-haired ghost of a woman settled back to keep talking. Holding out the bow towards the younger girl, she explained.

"Could you say if this bow is still in working condition? I used it in Torchline a while ago, and it got dunked in salt water, for a good while.

"I've done what I can to clean it, but... it keeps weeping salt. I don't want to risk snapping it, if the wood has somehow become brittle."

The weapon was nothing remarkable. A simple recurve bow of light, porous wood, the kind used for practice. It had a dosen or more siblings hanging in the barracks of the militia, all made for use, not for display. The string had been removed, as had the leather strips that normally would wrap around the grip... and the wood was indeed covered in salt stains. A bit stiff, a bit unbendy.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

MELITA

Her eyes went instantly to the bow; at least, what remained of its once illustrious veneer. The surface was etched, carved, straight out of sea and salt, as if drained of its wooden form and life. The girl’s hands went to it, gently, easily, calloused palms slipping over age-old timber, pondering the wake of its sculpture, and how it managed to become so adrift. She flexed it once or twice, turning it over, listening to the groan of the wood, the sharpening impact of what was doomed and damned to come. The girl ceased immediately, not daring to push any further. “I think it’s the end of the road for this one, unfortunately.” If it had been treated better, or cared for at all, then it would have maintained its reverence, its ability, its capability. Instead, it’d been left to sink and be eaten away; whatever amount of time allotted gone and done its damage, despite the care the pale woman had put into restoring it. “That’s too bad.” And she was truly sorry for it – to see one of her favored, formidable weapons gone and rendered obsolete. “You could always repurpose it for something else?” Or put it on display, leave it out of the clutches of the sea, where it could rest and remain, its purpose served.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

The verdict made Maea's shoulders slump. Confirming something she had suspected, but not wanted to believe. Her sigh expressed the same regret Melita spoke, and Maea nodded her agreement. "It's my first bow," she admitted, explaining the attachment she felt for it. For all that it was plain and unremarkable, it had seen her first true hits to a training target. Helped her bring down her first game...  and probably saved her life, on her foolish quest in Torchline. "I used it to bring down a Cloud Manta... it ended in the water when the creature fell on me and another. I was knocked out... had to wait far too long to go back and retrieve it." But she had gone back. Despite a concussion, despite being bruised from head to toe, Maea had insisted on bringing the weapon back with her.

"I think I'll save it... at least for now. Perhaps I will find some use for the wood later... to make a dagger or such." Or perhaps a god might be merciful enough to bring the weapon new life... it was a thought worth considering.

"Thank you," she still said, bowing her head gratefully to the girl. "Once I find a replacement, would you consider training with me, sometime? I feel I owe you a chance to kick my ass. For taking so much of Sunjata's time and attention from you." Though really, the man should have possessed enough presence of mind to remember his niece despite Maea's distracting him.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

MELITA

First bows and weapons between onslaughts of moments: Melita’s initials ones had been sticks and stones, hurtling at monsters, at demons, at claws slinking and serpentining towards loved ones. She didn’t say anything to these amounts of events or dominions, listening to Maea’s untimely series of circumstances, and how the bow had fell into the depths of the sea, left to linger too long in its mighty abyss. But no remarks remained from her details and parameters, contemplating with a furrowed brow, eyes still lingering on the weapon as she went to hand it back – still treating it with the reverent, gentle care it deserved. She nearly mentioned her own bow, the bracelet it was forged within, just an imaginary pull and tug of strings, a gift from Arduinna, one of the Fae now sacrificed amongst and amidst the forest – and then she shrugged off the notion, just delivering a nod instead.

The honeybee child tilted her head a fraction in confusion at the latter statement. “I’m always willing to train.” Besting the pale woman might not have been a feat – however, the emboldened, overly confident girl was always honed in on the temptation of beating, pulverizing, and growing better, stronger, to be the bigger monster across either seas, woods, or fields. But it was the notion of Maea keeping Sunjata’s time and attention away from her that perplexed; the man was capable of his own decisions, had sewn his own accord. Perhaps Melita could blame the pair equally, snarl and sneer in both of their directions - unfair to always be left behind.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Melita was the master of short replies, of reserved acceptance, and Maea found it refreshing. It also made her feel like she blabbered a lot, which was unusual. Had never been one for letting her tongue run away with her, and yet... these days, it was all she did.

"Well, if you ever get a moment to spare, let me know. I'll be in Halo, mostly, so I'm easy enough to get a hold of." She held out a hand, to accept the bow back. "I think I rather like you... so if you care to yell at someone, don't be a stranger. It would be quite refreshing, compared to all the people tiptoeing around, trying to spare my feelings."

She offered a wry smile, and brought her bags floating up towards herself on a wave of telekinetic energy. Slung one over her shoulder, and took the other in a hand. Easy to carry, easy to pack if the need arose... Again, it struck her as sad that a whole life could be packed down this easily.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh

MELITA

Melita might have blabbered or carried on about anything or everything had she been comfortable or around someone she enjoyed; consistently loud, exuberant, and wild. Here though she reserved her responses for either cutting, blunt, keen intrigues, or nothing at all, surveying, much like a predator, a vulture, a wolf. “Sure,” she answered at first, uncertain if she’d even reach Halo or have a moment to spare coming up – but training was training, and bettering someone was tempting.

Thereafter was puzzling and perplexing though, because Melita hadn’t done anything to be liked; no compassion, no warmth, no generosity that she usually extended to family, to friends, to near-perfect strangers along each intertwining abyss. It hadn’t been about sparing anyone’s feelings. Each of her words had been tempestuous and mercurial, intentionally clear and severe; a brow arch following the reply. A shrug unfolded, before she turned, the notions of departure imminent. “Well, best of luck to you.” A wave maneuvered through her arm and hand, wondering vaguely if any of it mattered; disappearing back along the long hall, thresholds of familiarity.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Sometimes there just weren't reasons for liking or disliking people. It could be something in the air about them, the way their brows arched, the color of their teeth or the way an eye twitched. How they rolled their consonants, or didn't... and in the end, it didn't matter. Maea just knew she appreciated the bluntness, the lack of hypocrisy, the sharp cutting words of someone who wouldn't hesitate to flay her alive for being a stupid idiot. It was, as she'd said, refreshing. A nice change of pace.

"And to you, too," Maea replied, as she followed the other woman out into the corridor. She spared one glance back over her shoulder, at the room she had almost begun to think of as home... and then she shrugged and left. Chose to use the backdoor, one last time, and only paused to wave goodbye to the staff as she passed.

No tears. No farewells. It wasn't the last time she ever set foot in this place after all, just... next time, it likely wouldn't be to stay. But what did Maea know? Change was the lead theme of her life right now, and she really had no control over where it took her anymore.

-----------

- FIN

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh