Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Likely no one would be surprised to discover Melita had never once ventured into a spa. Pampering for the Honeybee usually included someone being bullied, harassed, or annoyed for the sake of her own amusement; the mere notions of a massage didn’t really cross the demigod’s mind. So the invitation had taken her some amount of time to mull over, but nonetheless, accepted amidst the House of Midnight.
Sunjata had only recently told her of its capabilities, and so she whistled upon entering the threshold altered, changed, for their benefit. Waves upon trees, like an alternate version of forests lowering themselves to meet the sea, no rush of salt to damage their roots. The scent reminded her briefly of one specific Halovian, but she let that drift on the sounds of the wind, smile contorting as she beheld the picnic, nearly forgoing greetings as she spied the arrangement. “This is really nice,” she nudged Flora with an elbow, before heading straight to the indulgences. She didn’t look half as neat or polished as the others; hair pinned up and out of the way, but robe carelessly strapped on and half-tied; emblems of Ludo in all sorts of images embedded and patterned on it (some of the mask pouring coffee, playing with cats, or munching on taffy). Snagging one of the fruits, she’d made to guzzle down a drink too, but then the mischief began to unfurl, and she was seated, looking as if she couldn’t quite the notion of being poised.
The name of the game resounded, and she grinned, popping some dragonfruit into her mouth as Colt began the rotation. The complaint about men earned an arch of the Honeybee’s brow, and quick look to Flora in turn, before her gaze snapped directly back to Colt and the rancorous edges. Given her recent foray and proclivity for one of the impossibly stupid and emotionally stunted creatures, she snorted. “Do name drop the specific ones though,” she winked, presuming there were one or more that had gotten the rancher into such a fluster. She might have wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment regardless – but it’d be nice to know which idiots to avoid based on current experiences.
Then, realizing it was her turn, she blinked, trying to figure out where to parse. Coming on the back of Colt’s speech was going to look relatively foolish, but she shrugged and knocked back a sip of her mimosa, taking a big breath. “Mmmk, confession then. I did recently go on a date. He was quite reliably good to look at.” Amongst other things. Would do it again.
Sunjata had only recently told her of its capabilities, and so she whistled upon entering the threshold altered, changed, for their benefit. Waves upon trees, like an alternate version of forests lowering themselves to meet the sea, no rush of salt to damage their roots. The scent reminded her briefly of one specific Halovian, but she let that drift on the sounds of the wind, smile contorting as she beheld the picnic, nearly forgoing greetings as she spied the arrangement. “This is really nice,” she nudged Flora with an elbow, before heading straight to the indulgences. She didn’t look half as neat or polished as the others; hair pinned up and out of the way, but robe carelessly strapped on and half-tied; emblems of Ludo in all sorts of images embedded and patterned on it (some of the mask pouring coffee, playing with cats, or munching on taffy). Snagging one of the fruits, she’d made to guzzle down a drink too, but then the mischief began to unfurl, and she was seated, looking as if she couldn’t quite the notion of being poised.
The name of the game resounded, and she grinned, popping some dragonfruit into her mouth as Colt began the rotation. The complaint about men earned an arch of the Honeybee’s brow, and quick look to Flora in turn, before her gaze snapped directly back to Colt and the rancorous edges. Given her recent foray and proclivity for one of the impossibly stupid and emotionally stunted creatures, she snorted. “Do name drop the specific ones though,” she winked, presuming there were one or more that had gotten the rancher into such a fluster. She might have wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment regardless – but it’d be nice to know which idiots to avoid based on current experiences.
Then, realizing it was her turn, she blinked, trying to figure out where to parse. Coming on the back of Colt’s speech was going to look relatively foolish, but she shrugged and knocked back a sip of her mimosa, taking a big breath. “Mmmk, confession then. I did recently go on a date. He was quite reliably good to look at.” Amongst other things. Would do it again.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
