Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
Melita would like to be thought of as a monster, certainly. Maybe not by Iskra, but hordes of others – a threatening little menace the world would do well to leave alone. The honeyed tones had lost their sweetened fringes ages before, when survival held far more meaning than any innocence or niceties; she’d lived because she was a determined, unrelenting force of a cretin, accustomed to brutality now more so than anything her mother and sister might have tried to counter with. And bitterness too – for constantly being left behind, even when she’d thought herself on even ground.
The plea on his voice was met with an even more dangerous angle to her glare. Fangorn immediately shifted off to the right, having felt the atmosphere alter, and Sila continued to stealthily climb upwards, hovering out of range and reach. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Like he hadn’t been around or fucked off or done whatever?
Though her eyes flicked from his chest to his nervous actions, content, for the instant, that she was making him apprehensive. Maybe he remembered to soothe the ruffled edges with food, or it was pure happenstance, because no sooner had he mentioned eggs, than her stomach rumbled. Pretending it didn’t occur, she contemplated her options; leaving him alone, being mad a little longer, or eating. She could probably do both latter parts.
Trying to decide on how cross she was, the mercurial demigod simply sat down on a nearby rock, arms still folded, acceptance in something. “Sure.”
The plea on his voice was met with an even more dangerous angle to her glare. Fangorn immediately shifted off to the right, having felt the atmosphere alter, and Sila continued to stealthily climb upwards, hovering out of range and reach. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Like he hadn’t been around or fucked off or done whatever?
Though her eyes flicked from his chest to his nervous actions, content, for the instant, that she was making him apprehensive. Maybe he remembered to soothe the ruffled edges with food, or it was pure happenstance, because no sooner had he mentioned eggs, than her stomach rumbled. Pretending it didn’t occur, she contemplated her options; leaving him alone, being mad a little longer, or eating. She could probably do both latter parts.
Trying to decide on how cross she was, the mercurial demigod simply sat down on a nearby rock, arms still folded, acceptance in something. “Sure.”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
