we're bigger than we ever dreamed

MELITA

Fangorn’s alarm was clear the moment the toys became maneuvering toward him – curiosity be damned, the pumpkin gourd hissed several infernal, feral things that would’ve been curses coming out of a human’s mouth, bounding and launching for Melita’s ankles, then her arms, without preamble or shame. The youth couldn’t suppress a chuckle, even as the gourd shook and trembled, and her hands softly patted over his stem. “Oh dear,” she whispered, pressing her lips together but the smile never quite dissipating.

After rolling her eyes at her companion’s antics, her attention rendered back to the alchemist and his offers. Perhaps she should have gone to him first, been the one foremost in her mind for any repairs or damages; but he had enough things on his plate, blinded, scorned, scorched against for whatever reason, that tending to her small, meager needs and necessities seemed so little and small in comparison.

Probably for a God too.

Her heart hurt in ways she couldn’t fathom or describe, squeezing in pulses and tremors, but she gave a grateful grin. “I’ll remember that,” but hastened it into her soul to not leave him open to petty, trivial things; Ludo not being her only option- a flicker, a yearning, a grating feeling that some scorching days gathered amidst the Rift made her remember families were not just the ones contorted through blood, but the bonds immersed from trials and tribulations.

Then he laid the sap out for her, and before her hands could wrap around the massive jar, they fluttered to her bag, grabbing hold of the gifts she’d brought in return. “You can have these!” She handed him the tiny sack, still containing the stones she’d gathered at the bottom of the Cataract, some crimson like their namesake, others clustered in beatific colors, a scalding onyx, a brilliant ivory, laden and laden and laden with more. “If you can’t find a use for them, maybe Aoife could start a collection, or…” She wasn’t certain if they were even remotely utilized for anything other than ornamental affect – but she wasn’t going to just take and receive.

On a more reverential, quieter, note, her fingers glided along the jar. “Thank you Remi.”

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun