Stone Circle [m] I am not a woman, I'm a god

Her anger flared, and Skáld instinctively shrunk, though he did not step back as he cowered. She began to back up and he longed to go toward her, but every sign she gave him instructed him to give her space- and so he did, though it tore him to pieces to stay rooted to the spot. 

Maybe if he gave her a minute- maybe that was all that she needed. Maybe he'd come too close, and she needed a bit of air- or maybe he'd said the wrong thing. Maybe he'd said the right thing, but in the right way- had he not sounded convincing enough when he'd asked her to stay? Did she think he was only asking her because he pitied her? Did she think he thought she couldn't make it on her own? 

His ears lifted when she began speaking, and he nodded. "Yes, stay-" He echoed softly, his anxious questions fading for just a moment before he was slammed with words that were full of anger, that left him feeling sheepish and confused. He wilted as she growled, and at last his resolve pushed him to shift his front paws, not sure if she might launch herself at him or continue to shout at him. 

It was so sudden a shift, that he felt absolutely dumbfounded. "Mae-" He fumbled, when the words Forget me! rang in his ears. "What?" He breathed hoarsely.

She stepped back. 

He took a trembling step forward, though he feared for his well-being. 

"Mae- please, don't-"

But he wouldn't get the word out before she turned and ran. 

And Skáld faltered. He was tied to his home, tied to the arguments he'd never been a part of, and bitter grudges he had inherited though he wanted nothing to do with them. So many had left him, one way or another, but often when he was sleeping, as though it was a kindness to leave him shuddering with the cold in the morning. Mae had left right before his eyes, and with a pang of grief he realized that possibly, he could have done something. 

But there were children to tend to, parents to relieve, treatments to help with, and again, children to tend to. 

He couldn't just run off, and leave them all needing, not now. He wasn't sure who needed him more; what was more urgent, and what would cost him more regret in the end. Guilt settled in along his shoulders like a lead-lined cape. "I'll come find you, I promise," he vowed quietly, before he pivoted and returned to his duties.