every time she burns to ashes
The party itself had been mildly entertaining, wining and dining, mingling and unfurling, and then everything turned, hastened, shifted. Bastien and Rexanna performed, the Penumbra and Queen with her graceful fall, her husband in wild theatrics; Melita was half-concern, peeking over shoulders to see Rex’s the red liquid (not really dead then; a hallucination, a figment, a trick; which gave the youth semblances of relief), and then half-amusement. This would be far more entertaining than anything else she’d been doing lately.
She listened to the directions, gilded gaze falling to anything else that might have segmented, hinted, at a clue. Would she need Bastien for assistance? The youth hadn’t been much of a detective, but infinite curiosity and audacity had lent her some distinction, information, and sagacity once or twice. Her eyes went towards the others too, wondering if things would be shared, or kept hush-hush, more secrets and uncertainties. And which one of them could’ve done it…
On nothing more than instinct and impulsivity, the youth and her companion turned towards the Studio, hoping to find something to decipher what had truly happened here.
--
Melita is heading for the Studio!
She listened to the directions, gilded gaze falling to anything else that might have segmented, hinted, at a clue. Would she need Bastien for assistance? The youth hadn’t been much of a detective, but infinite curiosity and audacity had lent her some distinction, information, and sagacity once or twice. Her eyes went towards the others too, wondering if things would be shared, or kept hush-hush, more secrets and uncertainties. And which one of them could’ve done it…
On nothing more than instinct and impulsivity, the youth and her companion turned towards the Studio, hoping to find something to decipher what had truly happened here.
--
Melita is heading for the Studio!
she knows how to rise again
Melita
