MELITA
“So you’re giving one another space, and then…you want to bombard it?” The girl’s face had scrunched up into a modicum of confusion, a wrinkle to her nose, to her brow, a hand coming up to soften between the space between her eyes, as if it a headache was pending to take shape. In truth, the matters they were dealing with weren’t her business, and she wasn’t about to ask – most of this entire conversation was for Sunjata’s sake, attempting to segment off some impending damage, some unfurling spread of disaster. “Even if you mean well, he still might not welcome it.” Hadn’t he had enough lately? Hadn’t he done enough lately? And who would even come to this damned gathering, after each trial, tribulation, and conflict he’d immersed himself within? Some of the Grounds held him personally responsible for four deaths, some were incredibly irritated at his home-wrecking abilities, and then some were still enraged they had to attend a wedding endeavored purely by hatred, spite, and vitriol; a grand waste of time. She sighed, leaning heavily upon the doorframe, dropping her arms down to her sides in a gesture of uncertainty. “I think you should ask first. While the kind gesture is there, it may not be what he needs or wants right now.” Time, and to get himself collected, out of the ruts he continually ran himself within, would likely be better suited. “Relying on hope isn’t the greatest strategy.” For anything.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
