MELITA
Explaining the Rift to another who might never have experienced such a level of damnation, condemnation, and consignment to oblivion left her with a turbulent blooming, set to burst in her skin. She rubbed her fingers together, until the calloused skin felt warm in the cool air, settling her shoulders into something rigid and unbent, unbroken, as if she could pretend those stalwart banners and mannerisms flickered within her now. “The Rift was a shithole, and played on our emotions. On our memories of those we cared about.” Which was the best of her guess, how her mother had come from the ether, her lovely, wonderful, beautiful, kind, gentle mother, and wrapped her fingers around her honeybee child’s throat. Maybe he was right, and it wasn’t Ludo. Maybe it was just the rite of it, the way its horrors were damned and doomed to press inward, to linger far longer than necessary. If she’d given away a happy, contented thing, would it have done the same? Would it have traversed through her slumber, over and over, a whirl of plumes and love, before dissipating, before diminishing? She wrinkled her nose and raised her eyes upon the sea again, narrowing them as she saw forms along the waves – a pinkish hue adorned on fins – before snorting, relinquishing a little of the hardened exterior under his touch. “Well, you’re the doctor. How long does it last?” A little bit of humor, not quite meeting her gaze, trying to impart a smile on the edge of her lips.
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
