Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
She gave herself ample amounts of time, moments stretching into more than just mere seconds, before sliding pages of the book through her fingers, wondering if she’d be able to commit them to memory. She hadn’t been capable of doing so with her mother’s healing, nurturing diatribes; too young, too ignorant, too unaware of how everything would fall apart. But maybe, if she studied the text, it’d be like Nate was still there – with all the details written in between lines, with all the parallel strokes of diction and words, with all –
The Honeybee nodded, and gently closed the book, the steely resolve trying to find its way back to her bones once more. “Thank you again,” she murmured, pondering it it’d be too much to snag the thing and hold it close to her chest. “Maybe we’ll both be better at it,” and she shrugged, uncertain of what else to say. “I’m going to clean up his lantern this year,” the one she’d made in previous intervals, before glancing back Sunjata’s way, to gauge a reaction.
The Honeybee nodded, and gently closed the book, the steely resolve trying to find its way back to her bones once more. “Thank you again,” she murmured, pondering it it’d be too much to snag the thing and hold it close to her chest. “Maybe we’ll both be better at it,” and she shrugged, uncertain of what else to say. “I’m going to clean up his lantern this year,” the one she’d made in previous intervals, before glancing back Sunjata’s way, to gauge a reaction.
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
