the
VOICE
VOICE
Maea's anger makes her sad. She had been hoping to feel excitement, passion, want. An echo of some latent curiosity that perhaps the word would not need to be so muddled. But there was just anger. The Voice had learned long ago that anger was useless when not wielded properly. And with eyes blind and confused, of course she would not see her own destruction wrapped in dusky grey rags.
"The monsters..." She repeats, looking at the three sets of eyes before her, before holding her hand out for the book. The electric sapphire sheen of her eyes suddenly flickers, and the words of the book are reflected in her eyes. For a moment her lips twist into a small smile, though she shakes her head.
"This is very old. I can read it for you ... or you can gather the materials I need to allow you to read it yourselves." Unfortunately her words now are just for Wessex and Sam. Apologetically she looks towards Maea, a sad smile on her lips. You could have been so bright...
"The monsters..." She repeats, looking at the three sets of eyes before her, before holding her hand out for the book. The electric sapphire sheen of her eyes suddenly flickers, and the words of the book are reflected in her eyes. For a moment her lips twist into a small smile, though she shakes her head.
"This is very old. I can read it for you ... or you can gather the materials I need to allow you to read it yourselves." Unfortunately her words now are just for Wessex and Sam. Apologetically she looks towards Maea, a sad smile on her lips. You could have been so bright...
