MELITA
Melita fought over the predilection to frown, sneer, or gag at Maea’s initial reaction, and then the picked up habits of movement. Gods, no wonder they were fissured, splintered, and fragmented away from one another. Fangorn ignored Shii’s attempts at gameplay, focused primarily on the sentiments billowing and unfolding between the two women.The honeybee child’s brow furrowed to an intense, irritated degree though at the question spiraling. “I’m confused. Aren’t you on a break?” Why would she be orchestrating all these plans, without his knowledge or consent, especially when he’d proclaimed they were on different routes and aspects? That their relationship was on pause. That they were maneuvering in separated ways. Perhaps Melita had misinterpreted and misunderstood the nature of what the whole damn thing meant (or vice versa). She tilted her head, a dangerous look coiling its way through her gilded eyes, suddenly protective of the Flood, despite his rampant idiocy and delusions. “Why would you hold something he might not want?” Nonsensical, bewildering, madness; she’d celebrate his existence if he craved that, but not flicker into this bizarre manifestation.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
