to be lit up from within
vein by vein
She gave a scoff at Iskra ‘s inquiry, as if the answer had been there all along. “My magic, obviously,” she winked, which was the truth – anytime she unleashed those wild incantations, there was a chance that more and more of the ducks would fall around them – and if they just so happened to be themed this go around, so be it.But she watched him regardless, eyes narrowed, waiting for something mournful, sorrowful, laden with the grief of yesteryears. She never wore hers quite as keenly as Iskra did; but then again, that was typical of both. When he didn’t seem to delve hellbent into the melancholic efforts, she tilted her head, studying him, while he claimed her hand. She mulled over those portions too, trying to decide if it rankled or settled, before accepting it with a shrug of her shoulders, tried to break the tension. “Want to see if I can hit one of those kids going by?” She held up a portion of grapes with her free hand, already plucking some off the vine.
to be the sun
MELITA
