to be lit up from within
vein by vein
It was on very rare occasions that Melita was speechless – but the statement, and the unwavering gaze settling on her – made her eyes widen, soul go still. The conversation itself had been silly, surface level jabs and banter and taunts, but the underlying factions were much deeper, and she suddenly fought very hard at blinking away the threat of salt and tears unfurling from her eyes. Because really, no one had said that to her, and even then, hardly any stayed. “I’ll hold you to that,” she sniffed in response, wiping away at her nose with a watery laugh, leaving the notions of shitty threats in the air and the parallel lines they were running, letting the responses to settle where they might. His had landed squarely in her chest and nestled tightly in her heart. His voice presses up against her with the rest of him, and quite frankly, ice sculptures become the least of her concern. But she’d see it through, mostly out of stubbornness and then she figured she’d have her way sooner or later – though, again, the man was very distracting. It took every ounce of her being to stay in that position without turning around and forgoing the whole thing. Taking another deep breath, she slid into his delight, reaffirming the notions with a wry smile, as if she’d done something awe-inspiring when it had really been just a moment to learn what control was.
That next blow came though, and she gasped, guffawing and snapping, head swinging around to face him. “Five hundred times?!” Ain’t nobody got time for that. Hopeful he was joking, features staring back at his, desperate to find the amusements, she blew a raspberry. “Be out here all day.” Eyes narrowing, she speculated, glare reserved for this column of ice and the way it now stood between what she craved. “I have knives,” which shouldn’t come as a surprise. She bent down and retrieved one from under her pant legs, and immediately turned to hack at an edge.
to be the sun
MELITA
