to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
Melita tucked herself along one of the many chairs and tables, ensconced in between layers of people and places, eyes drifting along one of the long halls, searching for something that might not have been there at all. It was another sanctuary, another refuge, another home away from home; except the last one had been too, in so many ways, and it was currently smoldering, drawing either demons towards its fallen sanction, where they could prey, where they could stalk, or felling, squandering them into pieces, one last slaying for the guild manifested by hunters of demons and infidels.
She choked down some food while Fangorn rested in her lap, mind racing, warping, pondering what she should’ve been doing. Her existence and presence had been of little use as of late; her weapons cluttered together beside her feet, uncertain of where she could go, where she could place them, if anywhere was safe. She hadn’t slayed anything. She hadn’t done anything but kneel next to the fire, next to the hearth, and listen to Lily sing; offer her tone-deaf voice into the crowd of luxere when the world burned down around them. The wilderness had rushed away from her and left her as a shell, as a vessel, struggling to figure out where to venture, where to head, where she might have been of any use to anyone, anything, at all.
She choked down some food while Fangorn rested in her lap, mind racing, warping, pondering what she should’ve been doing. Her existence and presence had been of little use as of late; her weapons cluttered together beside her feet, uncertain of where she could go, where she could place them, if anywhere was safe. She hadn’t slayed anything. She hadn’t done anything but kneel next to the fire, next to the hearth, and listen to Lily sing; offer her tone-deaf voice into the crowd of luxere when the world burned down around them. The wilderness had rushed away from her and left her as a shell, as a vessel, struggling to figure out where to venture, where to head, where she might have been of any use to anyone, anything, at all.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
