to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Despite the warm temperatures and pleasant water, Melita could feel her features turning back into that disdainful wrinkle of her nose. Nothing in sight – so once again, naught to bring home with success in their hearts and potential in their grasp. Had it been this difficult before? Maybe they hadn’t been as rare or sparse? She’d been so hellbent on helping that she couldn’t recall, and with a long puff and heave of her breath, she only uttered: “Well this is lame.”While the plumes extended into her crimson hair and making them aspire and spiral into curls, the inquiry launched her way. It did cause some of her sour mood to lift, and a mischievous glint circumvent the frown. “Ohhhh,” she started off in a some flare of the dramatic, whisking her fingers over the top of the water and splashing haphazardly in little trickles and drops. “Ludo asked me at the last Festival of Lights.” She’d accepted, obviously. “Nothing with the death angle,” not like Remi had been – just to give her an idea. “But more of the chaotic variety.”
From there, they'd be able to catch up on other portions, with or without the sprigs and blossoms of the lilies nearby.
[FIN]
to be the sun
MELITA
