watch her dance, she beckons you
fair warning: leave her to herself
She hadn’t gone back to the library since her encounter with Wessex; put off by the experience as a whole, by the ruffled edges, by the seething nuances and anarchy slipping into her blood. So she took her time, ensuring she didn’t go during the evening or lantern light, avoidance of the most ridiculous, hoping to retrieve the staff book for another venture into its accord and information.
Except she was ultimately distracted while wandering, while humming, while bridging over pathways and spines of books, fingers unfurling along edges, skipping down lanes and rows while Fangorn still doggedly pursued. She’d brought her staff with her, in case anyone would let her practice in the Atheneum (which meant she’d also be avoiding the locals who knew her from when she assisted with repairs), a bright tune under her breath, a singsong decree –
And then she saw Kai, and completely forgot what she was supposed to be doing.
He seemed to be rooted in deep concentration along the sunshine pillars and windows, and she tilted her head, pondering if she should be bothering him or not. But then Fangorn went ahead, grumbling and howling when he recognized the fellow youth, ambling and rolling towards his chair, hissing from below its wooden expanse. So Melita followed, unfurling slowly enough to look embarrassed on interrupting his sketching, glance going to his pile of papers. “Hello,” she remarked into the void. “What are you working on?”
Except she was ultimately distracted while wandering, while humming, while bridging over pathways and spines of books, fingers unfurling along edges, skipping down lanes and rows while Fangorn still doggedly pursued. She’d brought her staff with her, in case anyone would let her practice in the Atheneum (which meant she’d also be avoiding the locals who knew her from when she assisted with repairs), a bright tune under her breath, a singsong decree –
And then she saw Kai, and completely forgot what she was supposed to be doing.
He seemed to be rooted in deep concentration along the sunshine pillars and windows, and she tilted her head, pondering if she should be bothering him or not. But then Fangorn went ahead, grumbling and howling when he recognized the fellow youth, ambling and rolling towards his chair, hissing from below its wooden expanse. So Melita followed, unfurling slowly enough to look embarrassed on interrupting his sketching, glance going to his pile of papers. “Hello,” she remarked into the void. “What are you working on?”
beautiful to see, but poison to touch
calm and chaos, evolved and still evolving
MELITA
