every time she burns to ashes
Melita had been floating in and out of the portals, though mostly occupying her time in Torchline. Her recent ramble into the Hollowed Grounds had insinuated some form of a murder mystery party – completely up her alley with mischief, and some sort of plot in the works. The youth wasn’t entirely sure or certain of how it all worked, the notion of fun had simply sent in her the direction of the Artist’s Sanctuary.
Of course, she hadn’t arrived properly – one was lucky to find her with her hair brushed most days – but the dress she wore might’ve been suitable (no bloodstains!), with Fangorn in her arms. The youth rushed in, excitement and ebullience in haphazard delight along her features, waving excitedly to those she knew; Rexanna, Bastien, and Oliver, uncertain who the others were, but willing to mingle and wander before everything began.
Of course, she hadn’t arrived properly – one was lucky to find her with her hair brushed most days – but the dress she wore might’ve been suitable (no bloodstains!), with Fangorn in her arms. The youth rushed in, excitement and ebullience in haphazard delight along her features, waving excitedly to those she knew; Rexanna, Bastien, and Oliver, uncertain who the others were, but willing to mingle and wander before everything began.
she knows how to rise again
Melita
