Maea
And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die
It heals them when you die
His change of tone finally made her glance up again. With a sinking feeling Maea listened to his answers, and felt them reverberate in her, echoing against other things she had loved and lost... Things that were hopelessly gone, where not even a shred of hope remained.
"Loren... I'm sorry," she said, guilt and regret welling up to twist her expression. "I act like it's somehow the end of the world, and yet... Sunjata's still alive, isn't he. I shouldn't... be complaining like this to you." What right did she have, when the person she loved still walked under the same sky? Maybe pissed, maybe unable to forgive her, maybe out of reach forever... but he was still alive, wasn't he?
She turned her hand under his when he reached back for her, turned her palm to meet his and closed her fingers around his hand. Holding it back. Loren's hand was distinctly different from the one she wanted to hold, and it made her rile against the threat of forgetting what that other hand felt like. Big, strong and scarred, fingers calloused yet capable of being so very gentle...
It was a tide of pain that washed over her again and again. Every little thing reminded Maea of Sunjata, of what they had, what they had dreamed about, what they might never be...
"Then... why am I not enough?" Loren melted the ice of the tea again, but Maea still felt cold.
"Loren... I'm sorry," she said, guilt and regret welling up to twist her expression. "I act like it's somehow the end of the world, and yet... Sunjata's still alive, isn't he. I shouldn't... be complaining like this to you." What right did she have, when the person she loved still walked under the same sky? Maybe pissed, maybe unable to forgive her, maybe out of reach forever... but he was still alive, wasn't he?
She turned her hand under his when he reached back for her, turned her palm to meet his and closed her fingers around his hand. Holding it back. Loren's hand was distinctly different from the one she wanted to hold, and it made her rile against the threat of forgetting what that other hand felt like. Big, strong and scarred, fingers calloused yet capable of being so very gentle...
It was a tide of pain that washed over her again and again. Every little thing reminded Maea of Sunjata, of what they had, what they had dreamed about, what they might never be...
"Then... why am I not enough?" Loren melted the ice of the tea again, but Maea still felt cold.
And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh
A whisper within a sigh
