to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
Melita probably had known about sentience of things amidst the Rift, but had never heard them described in such a way. While she bounded and leapt, stoking firebrand qualities through the darkening, deepening woods, the visions of yesteryears pummeled through her brain: thorns like claws, warren intoxications pulsing and pulling at legs, the grumbling within shadows, neither human nor beast, the sweeping way of the winds to catch one off-guard. She didn’t notice his voice getting further and further away as she continued her blistering pace, never one to stop and smell the roses, to gaze longingly at anywhere but the path before her – answering into the air, into the storm, while Fangorn hissed and pulsed a warning. “I think I’ve lived in a world like that before too,” she regarded, uncertain if this was a commonplace theme or just certain perils of hell she managed to squander and race within.
She finally realized the gourd at her feet was bothered by something, turning and twisting back around to regard his dire pleas, and as her eyes flickered around, noted Kai’s absence. The slightest sensation of panic, of dread, filled her, and she immediately launched from where she stood, gathering Fangorn in her arms, weapons bouncing against her spine, against her scars, scaling past the vines and buds, the sprouts and saplings, the high-rising canopies pressing everything into subtle shades of darkness.
When she turned the next corner, there he was again – not gone, not vanquished, not spilled across the scene, and she burrowed away the onslaught of terror that had struck at her, loosening a perilous, shaky breath. “I’m here.” She might’ve said that more than once to her sister, sing song and melodic, and then quivering, fumbling, tearing apart. The youth made an attempt to look like she hadn’t seen ghosts or wraiths clambering over her eyes, instead glancing towards where he seemed to remain. “Did you find anything?”
She finally realized the gourd at her feet was bothered by something, turning and twisting back around to regard his dire pleas, and as her eyes flickered around, noted Kai’s absence. The slightest sensation of panic, of dread, filled her, and she immediately launched from where she stood, gathering Fangorn in her arms, weapons bouncing against her spine, against her scars, scaling past the vines and buds, the sprouts and saplings, the high-rising canopies pressing everything into subtle shades of darkness.
When she turned the next corner, there he was again – not gone, not vanquished, not spilled across the scene, and she burrowed away the onslaught of terror that had struck at her, loosening a perilous, shaky breath. “I’m here.” She might’ve said that more than once to her sister, sing song and melodic, and then quivering, fumbling, tearing apart. The youth made an attempt to look like she hadn’t seen ghosts or wraiths clambering over her eyes, instead glancing towards where he seemed to remain. “Did you find anything?”
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
