Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
In another life, words like those would have made her weep with relief. With gratitude, in the knowledge that at least one person still thought her deserving of anything. Only water rolled down her cheeks today, but it was nice to pretend that she was not too hollow to cry.
It was nice, too, to pretend that this was more than a chance meeting, and empty words.
"'Deserving' has very little to do with love," Maea murmured. Eyes flitted down to watch the fingers trace the palm of her hand. It did not tickle, nor feel like much of anything. Too bad. In another life she might have blushed to be treated so gently by a man like Harper. She did not answer his question, though.
"Mh, no. Don't do that to yourself. There was very much a choice involved, and I knew what I was doing. Thought I did, at least."
Stepping back to lean against the truck of the tree, Maea folded her arms across the chest and gazed steadily at the young man. Considering, at first, until with a shrug she seemed to reach some sort of decision. Talking did not hurt.
"What do you know, about death in Caido?"
It was nice, too, to pretend that this was more than a chance meeting, and empty words.
"'Deserving' has very little to do with love," Maea murmured. Eyes flitted down to watch the fingers trace the palm of her hand. It did not tickle, nor feel like much of anything. Too bad. In another life she might have blushed to be treated so gently by a man like Harper. She did not answer his question, though.
"Mh, no. Don't do that to yourself. There was very much a choice involved, and I knew what I was doing. Thought I did, at least."
Stepping back to lean against the truck of the tree, Maea folded her arms across the chest and gazed steadily at the young man. Considering, at first, until with a shrug she seemed to reach some sort of decision. Talking did not hurt.
"What do you know, about death in Caido?"
