to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Iskra humored her, and so she stood, content for a moment, hands on her hips and forgetting the whole lot of second guesses and tournaments and hard fought growth, to stare that stupid looking snowman. “Yeah, it really is,” and then she let herself to release a high pitch of laughter as it curled and coiled into her stomach and soul like something much more; not as heavy, but light, merriment and mirth bursting over every time she glanced at its dumb ass face and thought of its impending doom. “Snah,” she christened again, chancing a moment to look at Iskra and regale him with the wicked grin and promise of something else. “Perfect. Let’s fuck him up.”Stomping back over to where he stood, she could feel that trepidation reach into her throat and she wanted to swallow it down, strangle it where it gnarled and knotted. The Honeybee was tempted to reach and wrap her hand around his elbow, let him be that steady bulwark, but then he was asking if she was ready and she nodded grimly, the smile gone and dissipated, the boldness seeking a shelter.
His reassurance made her bite down on her lip, cast a shallow breath, want to flicker around like one of their dumb, wild ningos. “I like fire though.” The flames had never wronged her. Sah hadn’t struck her with a fatal blow of infernos. She knew it was pouting and childish, so she mulishly nodded her head, then stepped into him, leaning her frame against his side. “Ready.”
to be the sun
MELITA
