knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
While Melita remained light, airy, nearly ethereal, save for the devilry of amusement settled within her blood, Kellan maintained their heavy, darkened composure. It was nearly enough to drag the whole caricature, humorous poster bit down into the dregs, so she whittled away at her contortions, making Sunjata’s hair stick up on end this time, a few pieces of bird droppings caught in its strands. She managed not to frown when Kellan continuing to be un-forthcoming, the slightest sigh escaping from her as she passed him another piece of paper.
Only thereafter, as she drew a few more unflattering vacancies of teeth, did he seem to say anything at all. It was soft, but she heard it all the same. Dangerous and cruel. Her brow furrowed, the charcoal a little sharper in her grasp. “What did he do?” If it felt like an echo, perhaps it was, repeated inquiries to get to the bottom of things.
She’d had her own problems, trials, and tribulations with the Ascended, after all.
The honeybee youth had somehow managed to get Kellan to smile though, only on the topic of Fangorn. Her gilded gaze went from the stranger and back to her favored pumpkin friend, the edges of her grin turning all the more sharper, amused. In a deeper intonation, as if prone to theatrics, the girl whispered. “Anyone’s.” Whether or not that was true didn’t really matter to her. “They’re not picky.”
Only thereafter, as she drew a few more unflattering vacancies of teeth, did he seem to say anything at all. It was soft, but she heard it all the same. Dangerous and cruel. Her brow furrowed, the charcoal a little sharper in her grasp. “What did he do?” If it felt like an echo, perhaps it was, repeated inquiries to get to the bottom of things.
She’d had her own problems, trials, and tribulations with the Ascended, after all.
The honeybee youth had somehow managed to get Kellan to smile though, only on the topic of Fangorn. Her gilded gaze went from the stranger and back to her favored pumpkin friend, the edges of her grin turning all the more sharper, amused. In a deeper intonation, as if prone to theatrics, the girl whispered. “Anyone’s.” Whether or not that was true didn’t really matter to her. “They’re not picky.”
Melita
