MELITA
Fangorn looked puzzled and perplexed, as much as a pumpkin could, and outstretched his vines again – but ultimately, the moments passed unbothered, untethered. Upon Melita’s return, and the subsequent paper and writing tools, the youth could only sit back and wait as the scrawl was enacted. A name to attach to the face, and the fiery-emblemed individual gave a firm nod. “I’m Melita.” But for the subsequent endeavors, she could only furrow her brow – a curse. “Oh, I’m sorry. How did you get that?” Straight to the root causes – though she wasn’t certain how to provide aid to one in the water. “What do you need to do?” She didn’t take the pencil back, presuming the conversation would continue.
But she followed the trail of Delta’s gaze as it flickered and flowed away from her, segmenting down to a bizarre looking sapling further ahead, down along courtyards and winding pathways, canal-lined and street burdened. “I haven’t seen one of those before.” And, curious, a moth to a flame, Melita regained her prior position, no longer crouching, angling herself to begin walking towards the tree.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
