Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
No; it’d been because she was potent and powerful and did what had to be done. Monsters didn’t rankle her nerves – the urge to protect Torchline had. War torn dilemmas had spun at her edges and she’d been committed to the front, since the very beginning. She’d survived far worse than the freak accident of lightning binding her to Mort’s Realm. And her mother hadn’t sacrificed herself so her daughters could go on living in fear, in agony, curled away in shadows, never stretching their hands out to the sun or seeing how far they could blister and scorch the earth.
But he bit back again and her features angled into incensed boundaries, frankly, wishing she hadn’t even said a word. All honesty and vulnerability had shown was that underlying anger and terror beneath all the other potencies. They could’ve had a nice time, not wallowing in their wounds. Those stubborn intricacies riddled right through her though, as if she couldn’t help it – wanting to explode or explain or unfurl every essence of her being. “I’m not going to sit around and do nothing. I never have. I never will.” So if he was so gods damned irate about that, then so be it. He could fuck off back to Halo and leave her alone again. Even if there’d been a choice in the matter, the demigod status she now wielded would blend her right back to the fray; even if it was merely chaos, and bedlam, the gods always found a way. “At some point I’ll be immortal,” she offered as a stalemate, and then turned her head back to her bag, wondering if she was better off throwing it over her shoulder and wandering back down the trails.
Her jaw was tightly clenched when he came to sit by her again, sharpened eyes snagging at boughs and limbs nearby, rather than his face. Instead, they went to his hand, neatly bandaged, and then to her palms, as the roll was tossed within, and she could rally it back and forth, occupying the restless edges.
He pulled her attention back to him the moment he uttered I want in, as if it was some sort of bank heist, brow arching as she swerved, body turning back towards his. “You’re not going to be implicated in my crimes.” She could see it going a hundred different ways and most of them very wrong. Offering a sigh, then a cheeky grin, she pocketed the bandages, trying to steer the ship around. To what, she wasn’t certain – but unknown destinations and random occurrences, opportunities, amidst the whirlwinds of chaos were usually her thing. Placing her chin on his shoulder, she shrugged. “Maybe you could point his house out to me so I can burn it down.”
But he bit back again and her features angled into incensed boundaries, frankly, wishing she hadn’t even said a word. All honesty and vulnerability had shown was that underlying anger and terror beneath all the other potencies. They could’ve had a nice time, not wallowing in their wounds. Those stubborn intricacies riddled right through her though, as if she couldn’t help it – wanting to explode or explain or unfurl every essence of her being. “I’m not going to sit around and do nothing. I never have. I never will.” So if he was so gods damned irate about that, then so be it. He could fuck off back to Halo and leave her alone again. Even if there’d been a choice in the matter, the demigod status she now wielded would blend her right back to the fray; even if it was merely chaos, and bedlam, the gods always found a way. “At some point I’ll be immortal,” she offered as a stalemate, and then turned her head back to her bag, wondering if she was better off throwing it over her shoulder and wandering back down the trails.
Her jaw was tightly clenched when he came to sit by her again, sharpened eyes snagging at boughs and limbs nearby, rather than his face. Instead, they went to his hand, neatly bandaged, and then to her palms, as the roll was tossed within, and she could rally it back and forth, occupying the restless edges.
He pulled her attention back to him the moment he uttered I want in, as if it was some sort of bank heist, brow arching as she swerved, body turning back towards his. “You’re not going to be implicated in my crimes.” She could see it going a hundred different ways and most of them very wrong. Offering a sigh, then a cheeky grin, she pocketed the bandages, trying to steer the ship around. To what, she wasn’t certain – but unknown destinations and random occurrences, opportunities, amidst the whirlwinds of chaos were usually her thing. Placing her chin on his shoulder, she shrugged. “Maybe you could point his house out to me so I can burn it down.”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
