Maeve
There is talk of tea and soft apologies given in regards to her own story, but none of that really matters because he's talking about Nate. Talking about Nate and drawing away from her while he degrades himself to nothing. She lets him draw away and goes about making the tea as he spirals for the second time in her presence. Maeve learned then that just letting him go worked, but was rather destructive. So she waits. She finds a kettle and fills it with water, placing it on the stove before lighting a burner. She waits for it to whistle, waits for him to stop, and waits to set him straight.
Maeve takes a breath, keeping her back to him while he breaks and she waits. Then he's thanking her and it's her turn to speak. To set things straight. To remind him of what he is. What he's capable of. The kettle starts to whistle and Maeve kills the heat, finding the tea to set it to steep as she keeps her hands busy and back to him. "I know you miss Nate, Jata. I know you do and it's okay to miss him, but... but you can't keep doing that. Doing this." She stresses, voice firm as she finally turns to look at him, letting the tea leaves turn the water a golden amber shade as she sets him straight.
Her eyes are still soft. Understanding can still be found there, but also a determination colors her irises. "You are not nothing without him. He does not make you who you are. He does not define your worth, your ability, any of it. I know this is hard and I know you are struggling. I know." The Madame takes a step forward, looking up at him as her brows knit together and there is a conviction there that he perhaps hasn't seen before. "You can do this. You can. You're strong and capable and you will get through this and you will take care of your daughter. That is your job right now. Nate has to work on himself. On his convictions. You have to work here."
Maeve draws in another breath, reaching past him for the teacups and turning back to where she left it to steep. Carefully she fills the cups, adding a bit of honey and lemon to each before pressing his into his waiting hands, forcing him to look at her as she holds his gaze. "You will do this, Jata or so fucking help me I will drag you through this myself. I'm not letting you break." Her words grow soft, a promise laced through them as she looks up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek and to let her fingers run through his hair softly, "Now drink your tea and come rest with me."
Maeve takes a breath, keeping her back to him while he breaks and she waits. Then he's thanking her and it's her turn to speak. To set things straight. To remind him of what he is. What he's capable of. The kettle starts to whistle and Maeve kills the heat, finding the tea to set it to steep as she keeps her hands busy and back to him. "I know you miss Nate, Jata. I know you do and it's okay to miss him, but... but you can't keep doing that. Doing this." She stresses, voice firm as she finally turns to look at him, letting the tea leaves turn the water a golden amber shade as she sets him straight.
Her eyes are still soft. Understanding can still be found there, but also a determination colors her irises. "You are not nothing without him. He does not make you who you are. He does not define your worth, your ability, any of it. I know this is hard and I know you are struggling. I know." The Madame takes a step forward, looking up at him as her brows knit together and there is a conviction there that he perhaps hasn't seen before. "You can do this. You can. You're strong and capable and you will get through this and you will take care of your daughter. That is your job right now. Nate has to work on himself. On his convictions. You have to work here."
Maeve draws in another breath, reaching past him for the teacups and turning back to where she left it to steep. Carefully she fills the cups, adding a bit of honey and lemon to each before pressing his into his waiting hands, forcing him to look at her as she holds his gaze. "You will do this, Jata or so fucking help me I will drag you through this myself. I'm not letting you break." Her words grow soft, a promise laced through them as she looks up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek and to let her fingers run through his hair softly, "Now drink your tea and come rest with me."
Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending
still waiting for her happy ending
