[se] reforged

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Another figure appeared, familiar for seasons, years, whistles drawn, and instead of jumping, the youth stuck to her fire, arching a brow, incapable of waving with her armful of wares. She wasn’t certain why there was trepidation lurking in the midst of her head, but it could’ve been a mindless minutia of things, not Ronin himself, or any other contortion rambling through her skull. She would’ve preferred flames and notions she could understand, fathom, and set into conflagrations, but there was naught, not now. So she tilted her head at clouds, at Dark Stars and their dragons, trying to find something to salvage.

“To the new house.” If that was what they could call it; with remnants of ashes nearby, with embers no longer gleaming, with cinders sunk into the earth. An entanglement of renewal and resurgence, or just a foothold, a structure, to place their ailing bones within. Her eyes went to the hovering figment, wondering if it would even hold her amount of wares – but she placed them there, waiting for something else to sink. “Thank you.” A ginger smile followed, and Fangorn’s grumble along her ankles, either extending a greeting to Sugar or to Ronin himself. A breath, and then she postured from previous circumstances, arms and hands free, swinging down by her sides. “Is Remi all right?”

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun