to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
Her head tilted, the fracture of some half-smile maintained along her lips. “When I had the blight?” That wasn’t so bad? Not the greatest hallmark of introductions and meetings, when she’d been far more savage, nefarious, and wild, an untamed, contemptuous contortion of her blood. No control. No power. No dominance over her own soul. A horrific memory, when she’d been permitted, allowed, and extended into the darkest regions of her entity. How low were his standards on meeting others? She snorted and shook her head, bending down to take hold of Fangorn, clutching it to avoid the tremulous shake of her hands, the bitter, acrimonious memories stirred within.
At his next set of words, her face went back to its neutral, irreverent stance. “Not sure I do either.” She had trouble with her own moods, much less trying to gauge and step around his. The youth was far too tempted to bulldoze her way through things – without forethought or much rationale behind her mercurial, capricious ambitions.
Astra reappearing was likely her cue to depart. “Take care, Loren,” lifting a hand to wave absentmindedly, before turning to go back the way she’d arrived, trailing over remembered pathways.
At his next set of words, her face went back to its neutral, irreverent stance. “Not sure I do either.” She had trouble with her own moods, much less trying to gauge and step around his. The youth was far too tempted to bulldoze her way through things – without forethought or much rationale behind her mercurial, capricious ambitions.
Astra reappearing was likely her cue to depart. “Take care, Loren,” lifting a hand to wave absentmindedly, before turning to go back the way she’d arrived, trailing over remembered pathways.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
