Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
“Getting real sick of your shit, gang,” she hissed from her own modestly created training sanction. Usually, it overlooked the cliffs, the drops into the sea, and the churning waves with little fanfare, save for the wind, the breeze, the salt carried on all of it.
Today though, her targets were covered with gods damned spider silk, and no matter how often Sila set them aflame (as she did now – wings unfurled above, cooking some within the air and then snatching them, a sickening crunch in her mouth), or Fangorn grabbed hold and chomped (she should’ve been grossed out, but at this point, she didn’t really care), the threads still managed to get on everything.
Using her staff to maneuver several longer pieces off her latest, pathetic stone effigy (no real resemblance other than a pile of debris used to occasionally catch an arrow), she huffed and puffed, wrinkling her nose and setting the next portion aside. “Maybe we could use it for something,” she muttered to her companions, though that too was laced with uncertainty.
Today though, her targets were covered with gods damned spider silk, and no matter how often Sila set them aflame (as she did now – wings unfurled above, cooking some within the air and then snatching them, a sickening crunch in her mouth), or Fangorn grabbed hold and chomped (she should’ve been grossed out, but at this point, she didn’t really care), the threads still managed to get on everything.
Using her staff to maneuver several longer pieces off her latest, pathetic stone effigy (no real resemblance other than a pile of debris used to occasionally catch an arrow), she huffed and puffed, wrinkling her nose and setting the next portion aside. “Maybe we could use it for something,” she muttered to her companions, though that too was laced with uncertainty.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
