girls can be dangerous and still win
Melita, hot on her win streak, sauntered and hummed and purposefully glanced back his way to see if she could catch a competitive eye roll and pout. Had she been on the other end, she would’ve likely been doing much the same; juvenile and obnoxious, rebellion for a loss instead of success. Truth be told, he’d obtained victory in the art of their deal anyway – though one might say they’d both conquered on that front – so she let him have his little triumphs where he could, sauntering along until the garden tucked them away into more conspiring locations.
The aroma of the food was a lure all its own, and she didn’t waste any time with settling down amongst a small patch of clover and moss. “Aww, you don’t want to keep wearing it?” she needled at the hat, still adorned in hers for the mere purpose of looking ridiculous. But he seemed to catch onto the notions of the spectral variety, and while she slid a taco into her hands and bit down, he provided all the necessary ambience – fire flicking, the sun setting in the background. “Oooh, yes please,” with a little clap to follow once she’d demolished her first portion of food. The skull presided and bounded with fanfare and omens, and she grinned, quite eager to start and see if she could get another rise out of him. Not that Iskra spooked easily; but she craved entertainment. She’d be pleased by a jump or two.
Taking a sip of her tea, she paused, taking a long breath as if preparing for some inevitable outcome. “I can start! I heard this one in the Grounds at some point.” Which meant most would be made-up. Waiting for his flames to make her features appear ghoulish, she dipped a few nachos into the layered cheese dip, then persisted. “There once was a village surrounded by a forest, and within lived many families. They were mostly peaceful. Had dances. Festivals. Celebrations for each season when the harvest was good. But there was an old house that sat further into the trees. No one ever went in, and no one ever came out. Rumors started that it must’ve been haunted.” Arching her brow and waiting for his reaction, she persisted. “One year, every few weeks, the girls started disappearing.”
The aroma of the food was a lure all its own, and she didn’t waste any time with settling down amongst a small patch of clover and moss. “Aww, you don’t want to keep wearing it?” she needled at the hat, still adorned in hers for the mere purpose of looking ridiculous. But he seemed to catch onto the notions of the spectral variety, and while she slid a taco into her hands and bit down, he provided all the necessary ambience – fire flicking, the sun setting in the background. “Oooh, yes please,” with a little clap to follow once she’d demolished her first portion of food. The skull presided and bounded with fanfare and omens, and she grinned, quite eager to start and see if she could get another rise out of him. Not that Iskra spooked easily; but she craved entertainment. She’d be pleased by a jump or two.
Taking a sip of her tea, she paused, taking a long breath as if preparing for some inevitable outcome. “I can start! I heard this one in the Grounds at some point.” Which meant most would be made-up. Waiting for his flames to make her features appear ghoulish, she dipped a few nachos into the layered cheese dip, then persisted. “There once was a village surrounded by a forest, and within lived many families. They were mostly peaceful. Had dances. Festivals. Celebrations for each season when the harvest was good. But there was an old house that sat further into the trees. No one ever went in, and no one ever came out. Rumors started that it must’ve been haunted.” Arching her brow and waiting for his reaction, she persisted. “One year, every few weeks, the girls started disappearing.”
Melita
she knew exactly what she was doing when she invited the wild in
