Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Melita could understand some portion of that to an extent; wanting, yearning, craving to do something - but then she’d simply go and do just that. She wasn’t certain if Maea was stuck in the reaches and eaves of what to do or how to act because some of her life choices had been binding and unaltering, fear, or any other multitude. She wouldn’t ask either – the pale Ancient frequently left her discomfited – so she shrugged, helping Sunjata bring more of the food to the table. Silverware clinked around in her hands, dispersed along certain places and portions, nose wrinkling. “If she wants to be heroic, then she should just go do those things.” Without involving anyone else, she supposed, so the inherent selfishness wouldn’t touch or scorch others.
“Yeah. I don’t know how you put up with it for so long.” Love, affection, camaraderie perhaps. Maybe Maea hadn’t always been this way. Maybe it’d been time and death and reignition of trying for things she just couldn’t make work or happen. “Anyway,” and she snagged at a few glasses, pondering over water or alcohol. “Aurelia’s back too.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how you put up with it for so long.” Love, affection, camaraderie perhaps. Maybe Maea hadn’t always been this way. Maybe it’d been time and death and reignition of trying for things she just couldn’t make work or happen. “Anyway,” and she snagged at a few glasses, pondering over water or alcohol. “Aurelia’s back too.”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
