Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
It was likely for the best – had he become defensive or countered any of her measures with anything other than accountability, it would’ve only incited further damage. Stoked all the raw anger left in her lungs. Kindled, incited, contorted every little blade she kept on her person. Ensured some manner of violence and vehemence in a minute amount of time; and days, seasons before, she would’ve gladly wiped his blood off her daggers.
It kept her on guard too, rather than plunging desperately into hatred and abhorrence. Melita had expected contradiction and withdrawal, a dismissal of her feelings, as he’d done time and time again. Responsibility and liability for his shitty actions made her eyes narrow, her teeth hiss and grind, but didn’t raise a weapon to stick between his ribs. “Are you still too stupid?”
The apologies raked over her spine, and for a moment she looked away, uncertain of what to say or how to respond. Maybe just hearing them was enough for now. She couldn’t say she accepted it. She couldn’t say much more than the simplistic venture spewing its way from her lips. “Apologies have more meaning when you change alongside them.” A wait and see, if nothing else.
Which was what he was apparently trying to do.
But words hadn’t meant much before, and so she didn’t give much credence to them now. Her eyes narrowed briefly, swindling back to him, as he mentioned Isla. And a brothel. Exactly what everyone fucking needed after a war and desperately trying to restore themselves. A brothel. At least that tracked with where his mind usually was. "Surprised you're even here, honestly."
His question caused her nose to wrinkle for no reason other than some layer of spite and vitriol. “Yeah.” And he was probably pissed off at the Flood for a variety of reasons too.
It kept her on guard too, rather than plunging desperately into hatred and abhorrence. Melita had expected contradiction and withdrawal, a dismissal of her feelings, as he’d done time and time again. Responsibility and liability for his shitty actions made her eyes narrow, her teeth hiss and grind, but didn’t raise a weapon to stick between his ribs. “Are you still too stupid?”
The apologies raked over her spine, and for a moment she looked away, uncertain of what to say or how to respond. Maybe just hearing them was enough for now. She couldn’t say she accepted it. She couldn’t say much more than the simplistic venture spewing its way from her lips. “Apologies have more meaning when you change alongside them.” A wait and see, if nothing else.
Which was what he was apparently trying to do.
But words hadn’t meant much before, and so she didn’t give much credence to them now. Her eyes narrowed briefly, swindling back to him, as he mentioned Isla. And a brothel. Exactly what everyone fucking needed after a war and desperately trying to restore themselves. A brothel. At least that tracked with where his mind usually was. "Surprised you're even here, honestly."
His question caused her nose to wrinkle for no reason other than some layer of spite and vitriol. “Yeah.” And he was probably pissed off at the Flood for a variety of reasons too.
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
