to be lit up from within
vein by vein
‘Struggling’ had once been a key component of Sunjata’s character, right down to the core. And as much as Melita loved her uncle, there were days where she simply wanted him to reach down and pull himself out of his own ass. The current predicament hadn’t been his fault, but circling the mire and wondering when to step out of the muck only worked so often; and she had a feeling that he’d always find something else to occupy his time, rather than forging himself anew. Even when she’d given him the grace and permission to simply commit to benefitting his own prowess, he’d hesitated. So she sighed, watching some of her breath dissipate amongst the ether. “Probably. I was going to bug him when we purchased some bells for later on in the season.” But that seemed a fair distance away, and time meant ample opportunity for him to scatter away. Iskra brought up a good point though, and her cheeks rounded with air, purposefully and slowly drawn out again. “We could. Might take some convincing away from whatever project he’s using to avoid shit.”
The desert and its drama heralded another aspect of attention though, ignoring the way her mind always conjured the Dragon’s Throat. It almost seemed like a distant haze, foggy memories scraped out of dune canvases and aspirations for grander, greater things; a way that such environments were feasible. She just wasn’t sure if this one would be. His own skepticism caused another small smile, a light of laughter, jovial in all their caustic balances. “Listen, I’m sure the same could be said for a lot of regions once upon a time. But yeah, it’s gonna take some work. Hard pass.” His summary struck a chord, polishing it up into one fell swoop, extinguishing the shenanigans down into the bare bones. “Yup. And I’m sure some more shit will hit the fan at some point.” Exciting to watch from the outside, at least.
But then she had to concentrate on the sculptures and fire, glancing a little longer at him than necessary, mouth curving into a furtive grin. She did try to listen, but between Iskra and flames it was difficult to hone and reign in her focus, so much so that she found herself nodding along, watching, and then being incapable of actually patiently contorting the portions at her own disposal. “Okay,” as she marched over to one of the longer columns, and immediately used far too much heat – the potency and prowess of the embers and conflagration giving its way to her easily tempted and swayed mentality.
So much so that it was just a puddle at her feet in moments. Turning her head over to look at his again, she snorted. “I’m going to call mine Pool It Together.”
to be the sun
MELITA
