didn’t rust in the rain

Maeve

It happens quickly. The building starts to creak, swaying dangerously as windows shatter inward, shutters swinging wildly with the wind. Maeve moves as quickly as she can, running down from her room with bare feet. She barges into every room she can, shouting all the while, "Out! Everyone out!" Her voice carries and the Madame tries her best. She really does try. Most make it outside when the wall starts to go. Maeve doesn't leave. She can't leave. Not until she's sure. Not until she knows that everyone is out. Even as the floorboards start to buckle under bare feet. Even as freezing rain pelts her skin. The Madame persists.

The all look on in shock as the place many of them called home crumbles. It was no match for the storm. Blessed by Frey as it was. It didn't matter. Mothers clutch their children close, keeping them steady as the wind and rain wails on them without care. The governor is there, directing them towards the Wren Society and they trust his call, shielding themselves the best they can from the storm.

A few of the men rush to help Sunjata clear rubble, fingers slipping and grasping at storm soaked wood to clear away an opening. Maeve is no where to be seen. Not a familiar face among the crowd that makes up the workers of the brothel who are fleeing the scene towards the promise of shelter.

These violent delights
Have violent ends