MELITA
The comforting embrace had its effects – not quite warm, despite the notion of live bodies (because Melita had no idea about Ascension, because it was winter and everything within her felt cold instead of molten and infernal), but supportive and calming all the same. By the time Rexanna ran hands through her crimson locks, the girl had managed to stifle the sobs, to root herself, to press slower breaths back into the air – never allowing herself to suffer for long. There was no time for it, not when there were other monsters in the world, not when there were other demons threatening to take them all apart, bit by bit, bone by bone, until they were just bleeding, bludgeoned masses on the floor – Something choked, suffocated her, the soft ministrations of Rexanna’s entity only refracting over the surface. She felt entangled and knotted, cut off from anyone and everyone, because she’d been stupid, because she’d been blind, because she’d been desecrated by a disease that seemed to only embolden her innermost, darkest ambitions. “But what if it was-“ she started, inhales and exhales expanding rapidly, a panic searing over her lungs. What if it had been her all along, only enhanced, only unleashed, when there was nothing, no one, to stop her? No conscience, to and through the heart, unraveling by stitches and seams, and no matter the motherly assertions, no matter the determination, maybe she couldn’t be helped. Maybe she couldn’t be saved. Maybe she was just as monstrous as she’d been permitted to be – naught to tie her down, naught to desist the crushing weight of her sorrows, of her stupidity.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
