Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Melita wasn’t quick to trust; much more apt to be suspicious, even overly and overtly so, until someone had proven otherwise. It had gotten her this far in life, and if that was a rallying success, someone else could be the judge of it. The mess, however, seemed to be lying mainly at Colt’s feet, and what she’d decide to do with the cleaning of it, or nothing at all, would amount to another curve and bend in the trail. “How are you going to know if she’s being honest?” Melita quipped with a shrug; figuring if the Luminary had already extended a lie, it would probably be just as easy to spin another wild yarn and hope the Accepted took the lure. Maybe understandings would come. Maybe not – if Sohalia had been furtive and duplicitous before, the Honeybee figured she’d try it again.
She huffed at the other notions though – of comprehending Flora better, of trying to find portions that could be mended once she’d already severed and fractured pieces. It’d take a strong bout of enamel. “And then don’t fire the first shot again if shit goes south quickly,” as a reminder. She could imagine an explanation fumbling into something not at all resembling an apology, and then the rounds would flicker and fly, more disasters on the horizon.
As for being ‘right’, which she proudly gloated over with a wink in Fangorn’s direction, her head whipped around at the semblance and mentioning of her uncle. She’d already been granted the story from his side, and perhaps she’d been hoping that it would all dissipate; Sunjata had let it go, seemingly, but with his lack of emotions at present it was difficult to tell what hurt and maimed and what didn’t touch at all. Instead of broaching the subject with the unknown and feigning ignorance, she snorted, drumming her fingers again along the wooden railing. “So I heard.” There was a muted quality to her voice, perhaps a warning – not wanting to fight his battles for him, but quite willing to throw herself into the ring if necessary. “Probably should start there, yeah. He couldn't have deserved all of that.”
She huffed at the other notions though – of comprehending Flora better, of trying to find portions that could be mended once she’d already severed and fractured pieces. It’d take a strong bout of enamel. “And then don’t fire the first shot again if shit goes south quickly,” as a reminder. She could imagine an explanation fumbling into something not at all resembling an apology, and then the rounds would flicker and fly, more disasters on the horizon.
As for being ‘right’, which she proudly gloated over with a wink in Fangorn’s direction, her head whipped around at the semblance and mentioning of her uncle. She’d already been granted the story from his side, and perhaps she’d been hoping that it would all dissipate; Sunjata had let it go, seemingly, but with his lack of emotions at present it was difficult to tell what hurt and maimed and what didn’t touch at all. Instead of broaching the subject with the unknown and feigning ignorance, she snorted, drumming her fingers again along the wooden railing. “So I heard.” There was a muted quality to her voice, perhaps a warning – not wanting to fight his battles for him, but quite willing to throw herself into the ring if necessary. “Probably should start there, yeah. He couldn't have deserved all of that.”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
