MELITA
Melita could only bear witness to the incantations and wonder floating above her – mouth agape and draped in awe, in reverence, as the sap intertwined through the air, onyx and Stygian light combining into the midnight oils. Had she been dreaming the sight might’ve made more sense – spectacular and enthralling, the sap and her beloved staff fusing, melding, carving themselves back over another. Her weapon became a sable thing – splinters and fissures eroding into amber and honey, like gold amidst veins of plumes and smoke, before it hovered, danced, and remained in front of her.Breathless again, nearly crying at the beauty, majesty, and power of it all, she didn’t know what to say at first. I’m not worthy sounded correct, undeserving of its might, of its mettle, or of Ludo’s graces. “It’s perfect,” she said instead, her eyes roaming into the folds and veils of darkness, answering to the ragged curtains of ash and coal. “Thank you so much,” her voice roamed again, teetering into the void; hands coming to claim the weapon, the beautiful figure suddenly back in her grasp. The words weren’t enough – she knew that, she understood it; the way the gratitude burned its way through her veins and sprang against her sight. Then, back into the midst, she inhaled, exhaled, and pondered what else she could do. Surely there was more. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything you need?”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
