melita
The challenge was momentarily ceased; but Melita still felt like stalking and prowling, awaiting the culmination of their game. Her eyes ran over him, assessing with a feral grin that could mean any number of things, before her gaze went towards his findings. Feather, wicker doll, and…chocolates? “Huh,” she uttered, circling around the offerings as though she were the deciding factor (and if Iskra was smart, she shouldn’t be). Then she laid out her own discoveries, pilfering them out of her pockets, and subsequently her hair (though not without a blush and rise to her cheeks from his compliment). There, she lined them up directly with the opposition; the gilded rock, the tinier bone fragment, and then the flower.
“I don’t know. I think I should be crowned,” lingered on a smile, hastening her arms over her chest, sizing up the differentials. “Like, do you trust that doll? Or the chocolates?” Her brows arched, chin lifting in her usual defiance – intending to hear the argument over something mundane, ridiculous, and silly, far too deep in it now to back out willingly.
salvation doesn't look like light
