QuirkyQuill
Dreamin'
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2024
- Posts
- 14
When he chuckled again, a feeling of accomplishment settled in her chest. Meya had a feeling that it was a muscle that wasn't frequently used, and while she hadn't set out to evoke such a response, it intrigued her nonetheless. It did make her curious what his laugh would sound like, if there was something motivating enough to bring it out of him.
"But sometimes, I wonder if it’s possible to serve others without losing yourself in the process."
“Those who truly lead others, not just seek to dominate, do not just carry one large burden. They have many burdens cast upon them from all directions, and each of those burdens takes a piece of that person.” She pondered for a moment and then stood up and walked over to the table to pick up the mostly empty wine bottle from the table before striding back over to where he sat.
“When you,” she said and lifted the wine bottle to give it a gentle shake, “pour yourself into other people and your kingdom, you are giving them a piece of yourself. Your spirit. Your vigor.” She poured a little bit of wine from the bottle into her cup. “For every thought or action you make, or every person who lays their worries on you, your cup…or bottle rather… continues to empty.” Meya continued to empty the wine bottle into her glass one pour at a time as she spoke.
“So, by the end of your day, you’re empty.” Again, she demonstrated the now empty bottle. Taking her glass, she walked over to the fire and poured the contents of her wine glass to the side of the fire, causing a few of the flames to sizzle and spark, but not to go out.
“Then, because you have done nothing to refill your bottle,” she spoke gently as she walked back towards him, “when the next day comes, and your people need more of you…”
She turned the bottle upside down on top of her own cup, nothing dripping from the bottle.
“You have nothing left to give.” She walked the bottle back to the table and returned it to its place before settling back into the chair beside him.
“So, no, I do not think it selfish that you would wish to find the simple moments to restore what you give each day. I think it is necessary.” With that, her eyes returned to the fire, the flames she’d disturbed moments ago dancing back to life.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Those words set her off balance, and she looked at him trying to find some malicious meaning behind them. He would be glad, she reminded herself, because she could offer him something nobody else could. There was nothing malignant in the way he looked at her, though.
“To moments of peace.”
She raised her glass in response to his, but remembered as soon as the cup touched her lips it was empty. Pulling it back, she furrowed her brows as she looked into the emptiness, her lip poking out in something resembling a pout. Not that she would ever admit to pouting.
“Pouring that wine out seemed like a much better idea a few moments ago than it does now.”
"But sometimes, I wonder if it’s possible to serve others without losing yourself in the process."
“Those who truly lead others, not just seek to dominate, do not just carry one large burden. They have many burdens cast upon them from all directions, and each of those burdens takes a piece of that person.” She pondered for a moment and then stood up and walked over to the table to pick up the mostly empty wine bottle from the table before striding back over to where he sat.
“When you,” she said and lifted the wine bottle to give it a gentle shake, “pour yourself into other people and your kingdom, you are giving them a piece of yourself. Your spirit. Your vigor.” She poured a little bit of wine from the bottle into her cup. “For every thought or action you make, or every person who lays their worries on you, your cup…or bottle rather… continues to empty.” Meya continued to empty the wine bottle into her glass one pour at a time as she spoke.
“So, by the end of your day, you’re empty.” Again, she demonstrated the now empty bottle. Taking her glass, she walked over to the fire and poured the contents of her wine glass to the side of the fire, causing a few of the flames to sizzle and spark, but not to go out.
“Then, because you have done nothing to refill your bottle,” she spoke gently as she walked back towards him, “when the next day comes, and your people need more of you…”
She turned the bottle upside down on top of her own cup, nothing dripping from the bottle.
“You have nothing left to give.” She walked the bottle back to the table and returned it to its place before settling back into the chair beside him.
“So, no, I do not think it selfish that you would wish to find the simple moments to restore what you give each day. I think it is necessary.” With that, her eyes returned to the fire, the flames she’d disturbed moments ago dancing back to life.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Those words set her off balance, and she looked at him trying to find some malicious meaning behind them. He would be glad, she reminded herself, because she could offer him something nobody else could. There was nothing malignant in the way he looked at her, though.
“To moments of peace.”
She raised her glass in response to his, but remembered as soon as the cup touched her lips it was empty. Pulling it back, she furrowed her brows as she looked into the emptiness, her lip poking out in something resembling a pout. Not that she would ever admit to pouting.
“Pouring that wine out seemed like a much better idea a few moments ago than it does now.”
