if it doesn't burn a little
Weaver nods as he suggests taking the personal items. ”I am sure there are people who would want to have something of hers.” Maea seemed like the sort of girl you fell in love with (in a friendly fashion, and maybe sometimes more) pretty easily. She seemed like the sort that would have left her mark on many hearts. Weaver pulls the feather and the letter to Sunjata out of her pocket to show Loren, figuring there’s no reason to keep them a secret. As far as she had seen between the two of them (limited, admittedly), they were friendly enough. ”I did find this. I’ll see him at the Kraai later, so I thought I’d bring it.”
She sighs slightly. ”I find the nights are easier. Like over the course of the day the pain has settled to a quiet ache. It’s in the morning, in that moment before I fully wake. You know how you can wake and not be sure what day it is? I find I wake and expect them to all just be there still, and when I remember, it’s like someone ripped out my middle.” She doesn’t typically admit that, though Loren is easy to talk to. And he’ll get it. They may feel pain differently, but he’ll get it all the same.
As he says losing himself wouldn’t be so bad, she shifts a bit so she can look at him a bit better. Still tucked beneath his arm, she doesn’t quite face him dead on, but she can see his face well enough. ”Do you really mean that?” she asks, giving him space to answer, though she doesn’t think he does. She thinks he wants more than to spiral, more than to simply give up.
She sighs slightly. ”I find the nights are easier. Like over the course of the day the pain has settled to a quiet ache. It’s in the morning, in that moment before I fully wake. You know how you can wake and not be sure what day it is? I find I wake and expect them to all just be there still, and when I remember, it’s like someone ripped out my middle.” She doesn’t typically admit that, though Loren is easy to talk to. And he’ll get it. They may feel pain differently, but he’ll get it all the same.
As he says losing himself wouldn’t be so bad, she shifts a bit so she can look at him a bit better. Still tucked beneath his arm, she doesn’t quite face him dead on, but she can see his face well enough. ”Do you really mean that?” she asks, giving him space to answer, though she doesn’t think he does. She thinks he wants more than to spiral, more than to simply give up.
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
