Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Her eyes went away from the nimbus to the horizon too; briefly settling on remains, on ashes, on the things she’d seen time and time again as she’d traipsed by, out of habit. Routine, to wander into the confines of the home they’d built, into the room they’d left for her, into a place and piece she could call home. She’d had so many that it shouldn’t have hurt; she knew what it meant to have one destroyed, left behind, overcome by elements or nefariousness. Maybe that was traditional as well, for it to all come crashing, burning, tumbling down around her. That she couldn’t have done anything. That she didn’t even have a moment to try, before it was all lost.
A breath stilled, quieted the thunderous emotions binding their way through her heart, and then her fingers were gliding over the cloud again, calming her own insinuations down, down, down. Fangorn, sensing the tribulations, the war in her sentiments, grumbled something – meant to be soothing, most likely, but doubled as a return in response to Sugar’s forced trill. Another inhale and exhale brought her back to the present, to conversations surrounding exploration, of the vastness before them. “Gods forbid you become bored.” And here she laughed, brief little returns to normalcy, pockets of merriment before other storms and trials. “What sort of land are you hoping to see?” They already had the mountains of Halo, Torchline’s sea, the lava within the Climb, the copses of the Greatwood – what else could be left? Her mind hummed through the pictures of Helovia – the desert in which she’d been born, crimson and draconic, smoldering and defiant.
Perfectly fine out on the sea would be a hopeful thing – uncertain what they’d find or discover next, the curiosity embedded in rivulets, certain to cast a wider net over the apprehension and memories of last time. Her gaze followed Ronin’s at the notion of her gathered things, snorting a little. “Just some stuff for the new place. Eventually. When we all get around to it.” She could store it along the boxing arena for now.
A breath stilled, quieted the thunderous emotions binding their way through her heart, and then her fingers were gliding over the cloud again, calming her own insinuations down, down, down. Fangorn, sensing the tribulations, the war in her sentiments, grumbled something – meant to be soothing, most likely, but doubled as a return in response to Sugar’s forced trill. Another inhale and exhale brought her back to the present, to conversations surrounding exploration, of the vastness before them. “Gods forbid you become bored.” And here she laughed, brief little returns to normalcy, pockets of merriment before other storms and trials. “What sort of land are you hoping to see?” They already had the mountains of Halo, Torchline’s sea, the lava within the Climb, the copses of the Greatwood – what else could be left? Her mind hummed through the pictures of Helovia – the desert in which she’d been born, crimson and draconic, smoldering and defiant.
Perfectly fine out on the sea would be a hopeful thing – uncertain what they’d find or discover next, the curiosity embedded in rivulets, certain to cast a wider net over the apprehension and memories of last time. Her gaze followed Ronin’s at the notion of her gathered things, snorting a little. “Just some stuff for the new place. Eventually. When we all get around to it.” She could store it along the boxing arena for now.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
