Maea
And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die
It heals them when you die
Relief flashed in her eyes, when Isla so readily took over the control over her puppet strings. Like a sleepwalker she shuffled over to the cot and sat down, perched gingerly on the edge. Following the woman's every move. Thin shoulders hunched up towards the ears at the request. "That... I don't... think so? I don't know."
Even though she didn't need it, the steadying breath had become a way to cope. A mental crutch, rather than physical.
"I was in Mourn. A Fae found me. We spoke... it turned into an argument." Clipped words was all she could manage. Just the bare minimum, because digging deeper was too painful. Required too much of an explanation. In the end, what did it even matter? "She... attacked me. I defended myself but... she - she - " The light shone into her eyes was bright. Blinding, almost; Maea blinked when it was removed and looked away. "She overwhelmed me and tried to kill me. So I - I struck back, and I - I k- I killed her." Clenching her uninjured fist she pressed the words out. Too quick, tumbling over themselves - just to get them out.
It was so different to say it here, in front of this person. So much worse, as if that device of hers was shining a light onto her soul too. Lighting up all the filthy tainted spots she had tried so hard to overlook. In comparison, the arm was nothing. Just a surface expression of some internal crack, slashing the underarm open almost to the bone from elbow to wrist; half cauterized, oozing and only barely held together by flimsy scraps of fabric. Too fitting. Too vivid a reflection of how she felt inside.
How vulgar, to make someone have to look closely at such a mess.
Even though she didn't need it, the steadying breath had become a way to cope. A mental crutch, rather than physical.
"I was in Mourn. A Fae found me. We spoke... it turned into an argument." Clipped words was all she could manage. Just the bare minimum, because digging deeper was too painful. Required too much of an explanation. In the end, what did it even matter? "She... attacked me. I defended myself but... she - she - " The light shone into her eyes was bright. Blinding, almost; Maea blinked when it was removed and looked away. "She overwhelmed me and tried to kill me. So I - I struck back, and I - I k- I killed her." Clenching her uninjured fist she pressed the words out. Too quick, tumbling over themselves - just to get them out.
It was so different to say it here, in front of this person. So much worse, as if that device of hers was shining a light onto her soul too. Lighting up all the filthy tainted spots she had tried so hard to overlook. In comparison, the arm was nothing. Just a surface expression of some internal crack, slashing the underarm open almost to the bone from elbow to wrist; half cauterized, oozing and only barely held together by flimsy scraps of fabric. Too fitting. Too vivid a reflection of how she felt inside.
How vulgar, to make someone have to look closely at such a mess.
And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh
A whisper within a sigh
