Maeve
It was funny how grief worked. A feeling that you never fully acknowledged. Always popping up when you least expect it, crippling you in ways you aren't ready to handle, never knowing when it will fade. Their grief was different. Melita going through the loss of a stranger and Maeve the loss of a home. They were nothing alike and yet tied together by their grief.
Maeve is too caught up in her own hunt to notice the approach of another, both of the girls lost in their own little world, only their companions actually paying attention to their surroundings. Aidon sees Fangorn, hearing his grumble, but paying it no mind as he swoops down to investigate. Way too curious to stay away. He's never seen a creature like this before. The interest that travels down the bond has Maeve's eyes drawing up and up until landing on the red headed honeybee, recognition shining in her seaglass gaze, a hesitant smile curling on her lips. The dragon, now the size of a small dog, lands in front of the creature and his claws tip tap in the sand excitedly. "Melita? I haven't seen you since before the monsoons."
She calls out, straightening up as she takes a few steps forward, the shell still in her palm. The cool surface of the shell warming in her hand, fingers wrapped tightly around it, feeling the way its curves press into his skin. Maeve runs her thumb over the sharp tip, pressing the pad of it there before finally placing it in her basket, "Are you shell hunting too?"
Maeve is too caught up in her own hunt to notice the approach of another, both of the girls lost in their own little world, only their companions actually paying attention to their surroundings. Aidon sees Fangorn, hearing his grumble, but paying it no mind as he swoops down to investigate. Way too curious to stay away. He's never seen a creature like this before. The interest that travels down the bond has Maeve's eyes drawing up and up until landing on the red headed honeybee, recognition shining in her seaglass gaze, a hesitant smile curling on her lips. The dragon, now the size of a small dog, lands in front of the creature and his claws tip tap in the sand excitedly. "Melita? I haven't seen you since before the monsoons."
She calls out, straightening up as she takes a few steps forward, the shell still in her palm. The cool surface of the shell warming in her hand, fingers wrapped tightly around it, feeling the way its curves press into his skin. Maeve runs her thumb over the sharp tip, pressing the pad of it there before finally placing it in her basket, "Are you shell hunting too?"
the only heaven I'll be sent to
is when I'm along with you
is when I'm along with you
