Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
Aha. Frey. That explained the confusion. And his reluctance to talk about it, as well. Maea kept her eyes fixed forward, trying to ignore that color had begun to creep up her cheeks. Her only encounter with that god had been at Sunjata's and Phoebe's disaster of a wedding, and that had been... uncomfortable. For so many reasons.
"I see," she answered, and was glad that at least her voice sounded calm. "I would... try not to put too much stock on that. Being called dull. I was always taught that Frey is... a force of nature. The embodiment of one single aspect of it. Being called dull by them... is the same as being called rigid by a river. Would the river understand your need to remain in one place, when it is ever moving?
"On the same line, why should a god of... procreation... bother with grief? It's just one fish lost in a sea full of them - and please don't take my head off for saying that. It is just speculation and a turn of phrase."
Maea threw him a glance, wary of any negative reactions. Loren did have a temper, she'd noticed, even if it had been thus far suppressed.
"I see," she answered, and was glad that at least her voice sounded calm. "I would... try not to put too much stock on that. Being called dull. I was always taught that Frey is... a force of nature. The embodiment of one single aspect of it. Being called dull by them... is the same as being called rigid by a river. Would the river understand your need to remain in one place, when it is ever moving?
"On the same line, why should a god of... procreation... bother with grief? It's just one fish lost in a sea full of them - and please don't take my head off for saying that. It is just speculation and a turn of phrase."
Maea threw him a glance, wary of any negative reactions. Loren did have a temper, she'd noticed, even if it had been thus far suppressed.
