MELITA
A community, a collection of souls sequestered and clustered together, a sanctity, a sanctuary: she’d had one of those in the Rift, but it’d been to ensure survival, so they all remained upright, mobile, and alive, a family of disassembled, broken souls. But here, here there were chances for more: more than just treachery, more than just dire consequences, more than just upheaval. This was a chance to belong to something, and she wondered why she hadn’t come sooner.Her eyes lifted to the outside, inspecting her earlier work on the paint, pleased to see it was still holding well: before her gaze settled on the massive double doors, on the threshold of beckoning, siren-song predilections. She’d joined them before, assaulting a banshee. She’d been acquainted with numerous members. She’d willingly hunted monsters before, when it was all she had, when it was all she could do to ensure her cherished ones lived another day, another hour, another moment. She glanced at Fangorn at her side, bending down to pick him up, to curl him into her arms when the strangest series of nerves bombarded against her. What if they didn’t want her? What if she wasn’t enough? What if she was still an ineffectual mess?
Then her boldness, her audacity took over, one hand on the doors, twisting, turning, and pushing, until she was an individual casting a shadow on the light portaling into the next room: catching the décor, the pelts, the pride, infiltrating the wares, the finer points, the dastardly, daring inferno. “Hello,” she called into the opening, not the void but something else altogether (home, her thought echoed; she wanted it to be home), managing to tiptoe her way further. “I would like to join all of you,” her voice bounded, an exultant, exuberant refrain when her heart thudded and bloomed, a blossoming of potential if they allowed her to stay.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
