to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
Unfortunately Sunjata didn’t take her up on the offer of searching – and though she hadn’t intentionally meant outside, along darkest nights and enthrallments of demise (she’d been out there once now, and it had been enough) – it’d been cut off regardless, a wait and see gamble. She managed not to frown, but stuck the notion in the back of her mind for when the evening finally spilled over into sun and glory, an eye out for the absentee bartender.
At the very least, she’d be able to lend a hand with the bar, commit to movement and motion instead of sulking endeavors and listless exploits – adrift ever since the blight plunged into her skin, unaware of where she should be going or what she should be doing. “Okay,” she grinned, slightly rejuvenated, spine a little straighter, hands tightening into fists at the notion of action. Thereafter, though, she was genuinely surprised by his offer – and her face could’ve enlightened the whole breadth of LongNight’s space, welcomed and encouraged to come visit, for a place to stay amongst those she knew. Her grin rekindled was an effervescent thing, genuine, sweet, and like the sun, like the flames, like the mercurial, whimsical cravings stoked behind her eyes. “I’d love to!”
To all these other things he offered too – and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had, not since the Rift, invited and enticed and instigated some place to thrive amongst and amidst. “Yes!” The enthusiasm was a contagious onslaught now, gathered and bound in lithe embers and rivulets of crimson hair, newly revitalized, revived. At his smile, at the name slip, at the wink though, a rogue little fashion of a smirk curled its way along her mouth. “Of course. But, who is Lusea?” And she leaned a little closer, teasing, wrinkling her nose; pondering the name she hadn’t heard before, brows lifting in mocking overtures.
At the very least, she’d be able to lend a hand with the bar, commit to movement and motion instead of sulking endeavors and listless exploits – adrift ever since the blight plunged into her skin, unaware of where she should be going or what she should be doing. “Okay,” she grinned, slightly rejuvenated, spine a little straighter, hands tightening into fists at the notion of action. Thereafter, though, she was genuinely surprised by his offer – and her face could’ve enlightened the whole breadth of LongNight’s space, welcomed and encouraged to come visit, for a place to stay amongst those she knew. Her grin rekindled was an effervescent thing, genuine, sweet, and like the sun, like the flames, like the mercurial, whimsical cravings stoked behind her eyes. “I’d love to!”
To all these other things he offered too – and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had, not since the Rift, invited and enticed and instigated some place to thrive amongst and amidst. “Yes!” The enthusiasm was a contagious onslaught now, gathered and bound in lithe embers and rivulets of crimson hair, newly revitalized, revived. At his smile, at the name slip, at the wink though, a rogue little fashion of a smirk curled its way along her mouth. “Of course. But, who is Lusea?” And she leaned a little closer, teasing, wrinkling her nose; pondering the name she hadn’t heard before, brows lifting in mocking overtures.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
