"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
The ever stoic Noah. So strong. So still. So resolute. Maeve wrapped him in her embrace even though he stated stiff in her arms, dropping her head against his chest even as her tears stained his shirt, breaths coming in short little pants even as she tried to keep herself together for him. Except she wasn't the stoic one. She wasn't the strong one. Not out of the two of them.
His voice was rough like sandpaper as it cut through the silence, choked with a sob, all of that grief finally bubbling out of him like water through the cracks in the Sea of Glass. The very sea that Korbin learned how to swim for in case he ever fell through that ice. Her hand came up, cupping the back of his head, fingers slipping through the dirty blonde strands in a show of comfort. Despite her moniker and the poison that sometimes coated her tongue, Maeve was a soft thing. Made for comforting those around her and soothing the pain that life inflicted on those who were forced to live through it.
It made no sense. How Korbin died this way. How he passed like this. None of it made sense, but Maeve didn't have answers for him. Not about this. Slowly, Maeve drew back, cupping his cheek in her palm as she brought his forehead down to hers for the span of a breath. "Okay... Come with me." She murmured, drawing back, but not releasing him fully. Instead she kept a hold of his hand, leading him through the darkened streets of Torchline towards the clinic where Korbin was waiting for them. There is no one else there aside from the one nurse, but she doesn't stop Maeve from heading to the back where he is.
He's laying on the table, dressed in a loose fitting shirt and linen pants, clean and pale. He's gaunt, skin ashen, and cheeks more sunken than usual. Thanks to the preservation they've done he's not decaying yet, but they won't have much longer. Maeve stood to the side, giving him space, but offering her silent support should he want it.
His voice was rough like sandpaper as it cut through the silence, choked with a sob, all of that grief finally bubbling out of him like water through the cracks in the Sea of Glass. The very sea that Korbin learned how to swim for in case he ever fell through that ice. Her hand came up, cupping the back of his head, fingers slipping through the dirty blonde strands in a show of comfort. Despite her moniker and the poison that sometimes coated her tongue, Maeve was a soft thing. Made for comforting those around her and soothing the pain that life inflicted on those who were forced to live through it.
It made no sense. How Korbin died this way. How he passed like this. None of it made sense, but Maeve didn't have answers for him. Not about this. Slowly, Maeve drew back, cupping his cheek in her palm as she brought his forehead down to hers for the span of a breath. "Okay... Come with me." She murmured, drawing back, but not releasing him fully. Instead she kept a hold of his hand, leading him through the darkened streets of Torchline towards the clinic where Korbin was waiting for them. There is no one else there aside from the one nurse, but she doesn't stop Maeve from heading to the back where he is.
He's laying on the table, dressed in a loose fitting shirt and linen pants, clean and pale. He's gaunt, skin ashen, and cheeks more sunken than usual. Thanks to the preservation they've done he's not decaying yet, but they won't have much longer. Maeve stood to the side, giving him space, but offering her silent support should he want it.
Maeve
