Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
Heedless and ignorant of the other fault lines caused, she took a softer approach – sighing, trying not to feed into another caustic imbalance of fire and vitriol. That had always been easier to feed, to pour incendiary proportions on and witness the revival of infernos – summoning her willpower to simmer instead, to just be was easier said than done. She could feel the restlessness tangling and intermingling along her skin, and she curled her fingers along her palms, rather than ghosting at the fabric of his shirt or tugging him into her, making up for abandoned and lost time. In other moments, she would have hastily stomped off, pissed, angry, and vexed; the stillness gave her a chance to breathe, to take it all in again.
There was some apology nestled in there, and she took it for what it was worth, murmuring after it with a Cheshire grin giving chase. “You know just what to say,” and she wrinkled her nose in regard, laughing, letting the merriment dissipate over the fumes and vices. Perhaps they shouldn’t have been joking, or not – it was difficult to know with Melita’s mercurial plans – about demolition and destruction, but it was easier than trying to find a salve for old wounds. And she’d picked at her own lacerations long enough – and he’d certainly done the same. She was very tired of looking at all of their scars.
So she stared at him, gilded eyes scrutinizing again as they took in his profile, his eyes, his mouth, his stubble and beard, impulses very eager and, for once, her mind taking pause. Then the Honeybee took another long breath, as if gearing up for something monumental and immense, when it was simply acceptance, honesty, and veracity. “I missed you.”
There was some apology nestled in there, and she took it for what it was worth, murmuring after it with a Cheshire grin giving chase. “You know just what to say,” and she wrinkled her nose in regard, laughing, letting the merriment dissipate over the fumes and vices. Perhaps they shouldn’t have been joking, or not – it was difficult to know with Melita’s mercurial plans – about demolition and destruction, but it was easier than trying to find a salve for old wounds. And she’d picked at her own lacerations long enough – and he’d certainly done the same. She was very tired of looking at all of their scars.
So she stared at him, gilded eyes scrutinizing again as they took in his profile, his eyes, his mouth, his stubble and beard, impulses very eager and, for once, her mind taking pause. Then the Honeybee took another long breath, as if gearing up for something monumental and immense, when it was simply acceptance, honesty, and veracity. “I missed you.”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
