to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Content with the way the glitter conspired at the bottom of the box, like a promise of chaos, she grinned, handing over some of the roses to Aithne. Picking one petal at a time, she tossed the hues inside, blending them neatly amongst the rest of the melee, cackling with glee as her imagination spilled over into pending bestowals. “So far so good,” she whistled, purposefully perching some of the flowers along the sides, so they were stuck there like drapery. For some reason, in all the rush and pursuits, she hadn’t figured the Ancient would pry into the circumstances of the present, nor who it was for. Her eyes widened significantly, and she could feel herself starting to gape like a fish, glancing downward so everything felt like it was hidden. Panic sputtered in her mind like wires crossing in all directions, uncertain how to answer what likely felt like a very simple question. But they’d yet to attach any labels, nor had any discussions over their circumstances, and for reasons she’d only skimmed and perused, Melita kept him tucked away and secret; like if things were announced, the shrouded portions were no longer theirs and she’d have to share. Stupid and inane, probably, acting like she was a teenager with her first crush, given the talk she’d had with Kaisel, and how frequently they seemed indifferent to everyone else around them when flickering around in public.
Granting a smile, and a long sigh, she hoped Aithne ignored the rising flush in her cheeks and merely went about tossing petals into the box. “Oh, uh, his name is Iskra.”
to be the sun
MELITA
