Ill-Made Martyr [Open]

MaeA The silence was painful. She had come to hate it during this cursed season of Flowerbirth. Every moment of peace, every second that was not spent with her hands occupied and her thoughts safely focused on the task at hand. That was why she frowned herself in work, why she threw herself into situations like these, where all her comfort zones were tested and pushed until the Maea of last year could hardly be recognized anymore. She did not really know what to do either, when there was no Noah to give her jobs, when there were no Arnje to demand songs, no mischievous nephews that asked for games and stories. Who was the without her family? "I wish I could tell you" she said. "But I don't know either. There are no leaders here, no one to give orders or tell you what to do. You will have to figure that out yourself." Of course, Maea could have taken that role upon herself. If she told him to follow her and do what she said... would he do it? The idea was as tempting as it was frightening, and she shoved the urge back into the recesses of her mind, shocked that it vad occurred to her at all. "Just... find a job. Help those who need it. Survive." Pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, she considered him; taller than her but only just, dark of hair and eye, with something lost and edgy about him that could be dangerous, but might just be the shock. "If you need a place to stay... I have a farm some way away from the settlement. I could use extra hands." And he might break the silence of the place. If he wanted to. you're so cold, but you feel alive.