My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room
Maeve smiles warmly as Edmund tucks into his treats, settling into this quiet calm that they've found themselves in, knowing she'd look back at this in the coming times when the stress was too much. "They are tasty, aren't they? Not as good as the ones your papa used to make." She admits softly, a tinge of sadness coloring her words as an ache started around her heart, unable to stay one way for long. Some days the resentment came easily. Those were the days that Maeve thought Locke's name with disdain. That she hated him for leaving. That she wished she never fell in love with him in the first place if only to save herself the heartbreak.
Then there were days like today.
When her mind went to Locke and she wished beyond everything that he was here. That she could bring him back home. That they could be here together celebrating Longnight as a family. That he could be teaching Edmund how to make sugar cookies and getting flour in his curls. Instead it was just them. Maeve draws in a sharp breath at his request, knowing what exactly was in the smallest package, but she only hesitates for a moment. Setting down her hot chocolate, Maeve reaches for the small package, carefully wrapped in green paper with a gold bow. The Nightshade passes it to Edmund, "This one is from your papa. He always wanted you to have it." A lie, but one she's going to tell. At least for now.
She likes to think that if Locke was still here he'd agree with her, but they never did agree on much. Maeve might be wrong about this too.
Then there were days like today.
When her mind went to Locke and she wished beyond everything that he was here. That she could bring him back home. That they could be here together celebrating Longnight as a family. That he could be teaching Edmund how to make sugar cookies and getting flour in his curls. Instead it was just them. Maeve draws in a sharp breath at his request, knowing what exactly was in the smallest package, but she only hesitates for a moment. Setting down her hot chocolate, Maeve reaches for the small package, carefully wrapped in green paper with a gold bow. The Nightshade passes it to Edmund, "This one is from your papa. He always wanted you to have it." A lie, but one she's going to tell. At least for now.
She likes to think that if Locke was still here he'd agree with her, but they never did agree on much. Maeve might be wrong about this too.
Maeve
