Maea
And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die
It heals them when you die
"Thank you." Quiet gratitude laced through her voice and Maea's smile warmed a few degrees in response to Isla's sympathy. Or rather, to the offer of a place to return to. It was an obsession she nurtured of late, to collect things, people and causes into which she might throw herself. Thin lifelines that seemed flimsy one on one, but which put together forged an anchor that tied her intrinsically to this place and these people.
And maybe it was guilt, too. The nagging awareness that she had destroyed a place much like this infirmary. Harmed the patients within. Even without casualties, it was an unforgivable sin that she could never atone for, and by helping these people... perhaps one day she might hate herself a bit less for what she had done.
A second glance down over herself made her doubly aware of the ripped and stained state of herself. Maea waved off the medic's apology and nodded at the offer. "I should tell Amun that I'm okay now," she admitted, "since he will be waiting. But I'll come back afterwards. Keeping busy feels... like a very good idea." Especially since she couldn't look at her own hands without shuddering, expecting to see them stained in red.
Said and done, after disappearing for an hour or two the girl eventually returned. Cleaner now, in a borrowed shirt that screamed of a certain potter they both knew and with her hair tied back, she leaped straight into making new bandages.
"A lot of things have changed, since I lived in the Grounds," she admitted conversationally while she worked. "What's new, aside from the King becoming the Overseer?" Titles that had not existed for so long, it still felt unreal to apply them to anyone within the Grounds.
And maybe it was guilt, too. The nagging awareness that she had destroyed a place much like this infirmary. Harmed the patients within. Even without casualties, it was an unforgivable sin that she could never atone for, and by helping these people... perhaps one day she might hate herself a bit less for what she had done.
A second glance down over herself made her doubly aware of the ripped and stained state of herself. Maea waved off the medic's apology and nodded at the offer. "I should tell Amun that I'm okay now," she admitted, "since he will be waiting. But I'll come back afterwards. Keeping busy feels... like a very good idea." Especially since she couldn't look at her own hands without shuddering, expecting to see them stained in red.
Said and done, after disappearing for an hour or two the girl eventually returned. Cleaner now, in a borrowed shirt that screamed of a certain potter they both knew and with her hair tied back, she leaped straight into making new bandages.
"A lot of things have changed, since I lived in the Grounds," she admitted conversationally while she worked. "What's new, aside from the King becoming the Overseer?" Titles that had not existed for so long, it still felt unreal to apply them to anyone within the Grounds.
And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh
A whisper within a sigh
