to be lit up from within
vein by vein
She probably should’ve sensed some semblance of danger. But her familiarity and friendship with Amun had lent her towards expressing the same in return, despite warnings, despite possibilities, despite treachery lurking amidst delirium. Her eyes narrowed, her own warning, as his gaze lingered on her neck, managing to mentally gauge where her weapons were; daggers on her calves, bow on her wrist, ready for any beck and call, quiver on her back. The flashbang made her jump though, and Fangorn growled from her lap, his own signal and foreboding. “Who is calling, Amun?” To see, to decipher, to wonder if there was anything more than the plaque resting on their souls – because she’d been a victim of the blight, knew what it was like to not be yourself (or had she been all along; that twisted monster girl tearing into the earth?).
A drink; but not of anything like water, and she leaned away, the intonations a deadly sibilance under her breath. “No.” It was a hiss, a branch of thorns and nettles, an instance where he’d either take the insinuations, or brush up against the exact flames he’d been requesting moments ago. “I have water.” Hands grabbing hold of her canteen, offering it; expecting a certain result.
to be the sun
MELITA
