to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Melita was in sharp perusal around trinkets and , considering some kitchen utensils, pots, and pans oddly shaped in the form of black dragons, when she heard another voice calling out. Her head whipped upward, gaze swarming around, until she pinpointed Rhiannon amidst the hoards of trinkets and displays. “Oh, hey,” she responded lightly. She didn’t know the other woman very well; though she’d been willing to help clean up the gross ass void shit in the Feverlands.“Eh, looking for gifts,” she offered instead, granting a shrug of her shoulders. “I think my uncle would like these,” and she pointed to said draconic handles and things; figuring his level of confidence and arrogance would be well suited to adorning his house in his own likeness. “You?”
to be the sun
MELITA
