to be lit up from within
vein by vein
His beacon of confidence in her rushed the tinge of crimson across her cheeks again; eyes roaming back to his as if trying to find the lie and seeing the veracity still beckoning through. That instilled more, and she gave a firm nod, because extending any more words was difficult in the fluster and bluster, and before long he had her shifted against him, tucked away in case she needed to duck under jacket sleeves. Her chest wasn’t a rattling breath, but a headstrong, firm notion back in balance, trying to ready and steady herself. She could feel the beat of his existence through layers of clothes and vivid portions of warmth, she could hear the echo of sparks, she could see the bright blue sky and the stark display of snow, and she could visualize doing the worst to ol’ Snah, like he was the formidable enemy in a sea of trauma. She didn’t ask where he’d gotten the advice – whether it’d been passed on from others to a boy who’d lost a lot in his life too – but for once, readily adhered instead of balking or digging her heels into mulish quandaries. The Honeybee inhaled a long, deep breath, pushed it out through her nose, and then nearly forgot the other part as the charge sparked, sizzled, hung in the air. From there, once she could sense the static rising through, she counted in her head, going over pleasant images in her mind, nodding once he sent the snarling lightning preside back into the abyss.
There was a flinch out of normalcy, but she held herself steady too, with Iskra as the bulwark and beacon and light, peeking from beneath coat layers, as it swarmed into Snah. Boring and pouring away, raw power and prowess, something she dared to admire instead of shy away from, carved its niche into the demented snowman – ignoring the gaping hole, the way her chest might’ve concaved had there been more than bone and tissue behind it.
“That worked better,” she nodded and whispered, admiration of his abilities in both sagacity and skill. When her gaze went back towards the figure, still not yet fallen, she took another one of those long-held breaths and extended her own enchantments outwards, letting the lightning roam from fingertips to inanimate object, watching as the prowess poured and tore and ripped it apart until it fell.
If there was a sense of satisfaction at all, it was in the stillness. Her pulse didn’t race as much, and the oxygen she’d smothered down extended in a small gasp. “That was plenty,” she assured, not wanting to pick the stupid thing out of its newfound grave. There was a foundation now, a well she could draw from, instead of the constant agony of fear. Glancing upwards again, she finally smiled, breaking over those old pathways and starting another; a side road, freshly grounded, meant to eventually encompass the former. Then she reached for him as he’d done for her, intending to press her mouth against his, to give where she’d taken. “Thank you again,” she whispered against his lips, granting all the gratitude, love, and affection she could muster in the stark outreach. “I think we fucked it up enough.”
to be the sun
MELITA
