Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
His lack of an answer grated far more than it soothed. She was used to her uncle’s way of deflecting; the ease in which charismatic endeavors simply brushed shit off because they didn’t want to respond, or give way to something far more complicated. But Melita was sharp, keen, edged, and she’d wanted more than just his tangible flinch. A clarification would have done wonders over the caustic, embittered, rancorous thoughts immediately blending into her mind. "So you're just not going to explain anything?"
Her eyes narrowed the moment the compliment was paid – because she didn’t know what the fuck to do with that – and if she could glare daggers into the back of his head as he turned away, then so be it.
Different? Hair or necklace? She snorted, golden eyes flickering back to brush and canopies and anything else laden that didn’t set her off. “Ludo’s demigod now,” she mentioned casually, as if being anointed as a bundle and maelstrom and tempest of chaos hadn’t placed her on a path of dangerous and ridiculous fringes. She’d died too in the interim of their last meeting and bore those scars all the way down her chest, but fuck him, he wasn’t going to know that now.
Then she watched his dog steal one of the eggs – and frankly, found it funny enough to do nothing about it. Instead, she crossed her legs and muffled a laugh, waiting for either reaction. Fangorn made the wiser choice to intertwine his gourd vines around a nearby tree, as if awaiting a storm.
Her eyes narrowed the moment the compliment was paid – because she didn’t know what the fuck to do with that – and if she could glare daggers into the back of his head as he turned away, then so be it.
Different? Hair or necklace? She snorted, golden eyes flickering back to brush and canopies and anything else laden that didn’t set her off. “Ludo’s demigod now,” she mentioned casually, as if being anointed as a bundle and maelstrom and tempest of chaos hadn’t placed her on a path of dangerous and ridiculous fringes. She’d died too in the interim of their last meeting and bore those scars all the way down her chest, but fuck him, he wasn’t going to know that now.
Then she watched his dog steal one of the eggs – and frankly, found it funny enough to do nothing about it. Instead, she crossed her legs and muffled a laugh, waiting for either reaction. Fangorn made the wiser choice to intertwine his gourd vines around a nearby tree, as if awaiting a storm.
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
