[o] [Training] moth to the flame

MELITA

Perhaps it depended on what anyone deemed …useful. Melita could argue that the randomness of the incantations flowing through her were to amuse, rather than appease anything in particular – though Sohalia was kind in the encouragement. Maybe she’d have something else to show for the chaos.

Then the Attuned called to two birds, and the Honeybee watched as the fluttered from the distance, then went skimming over the water’s surface, breaking the tension in fine ripples, before striving for the confetti. “At least you’ll have something to decorate with,” she winked.

Before, of course, extending her own reaches again.

She could remember the surging power of lightning before – in multiple instances – once through her entire frame before she died. This one was her own though, and so she attempted to stay committed and not scattered to the residual trauma, as the elements curled, contorted, snapped, then sizzled, laying waste to the rock with burns and marks across, as well as the grass nearby. A showcase of power, laden and layered within all those tempestuous edges.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight