MELITA
At his first statement, she blanched, jaw dropping, because the rumination of months caused her to blindly, blankly, nearly stammer in protest – except he smiled, proffered it as a joke. A small sigh eased through her chest, and she billowed a soft laugh. “Phew.” Her fingers went to it almost immediately though, ascertaining it might’ve been more than a few moments, taking it away to see none of the hues’ residue on her fingers. “Looks like it’s ready!” She chirruped, before applying the brush back to its fold, neatly placing more blue over the green fringes. Thereafter, she meandered back to the sky, deep, pressing azures and cobalts, not a cloud in the sky, as if the sun was pressing down upon the rest of the land for eternity.“Oh, I like parties!” The mention of such festivities caused her grin to brighten again; remembering the grand celebrations they’d shared amongst the Dragon’s Throat, Ampere’s makeshift alcohol that she’d slipped (far too young and dumb), enjoyed, and then passed out; not remembering a thing. She presumed Iskra probably picked her up and put her somewhere safe. They’d had Fiat Lux too, which had been enjoyable and freeing, flower crowns and dancing and lighting small fires. She wasn’t certain why he asked her age (a fair inquiry on his part, truly, considering the bizarre lines of maturity she zig-zagged over and around; experience in lethality, and barely anything else), but answered without fear or shame, completely unaware of anything and everything she’d ever dodged or missed on her way to survival, gaze back on her painting. “Nineteen.”
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
