watch her dance, she beckons you
fair warning: leave her to herself
Melita spent the morning on the sea breeze, varnished and lacquered in its rise and fall, in the cool, crisp emblems of wind and mercurial existences. A breath, and she was ignited all over again, stepping blatantly on the surface of its veneer from the rustic shoreline, Fangorn following along as she roamed, as she leapt, as she danced along the fringes of the current. Neither nymph nor Fae, but rapturous on their incandescence, on their gifts dangling around her ankle, she clambered on and on. At times she raced the swells, at times she chased the Hels, at times she was merely wild and free and nothing, no one, could tame her savage presence. Gourd and girl bounded together on the Ahi perimeters, the wolfish laughter tracing from her fortifications, her might, her daring, emboldened, audacious ethereality.
At one with the ocean, but loud enough to send the Hels squawking, she’d been thoroughly distracted in her amusements, and not the reality of others occupying the beach. Carefree and irreverent, exposed on the water front, it took Fangorn’s roughened, heightened growls to cause her attention to swing away from the endless horizon, and to the dunes, the embankments, where sands met shoals.
Another was nearby – and for a moment Melita thought she was hallucinating. She recognized the figure at once, but hadn’t seen her in such a long time that she could scarcely remember how many turns, how many revolutions, it’d been. Was it a mirage? A dream? The youth tilted her head, watched and waited, poised there, the water flickering beneath her feet, maneuvering her closer, until the other moved.
“Vai!?” She screamed, vehement, ardent howl across the waves, and then she was sprinting, running full tilt towards the healer.
At one with the ocean, but loud enough to send the Hels squawking, she’d been thoroughly distracted in her amusements, and not the reality of others occupying the beach. Carefree and irreverent, exposed on the water front, it took Fangorn’s roughened, heightened growls to cause her attention to swing away from the endless horizon, and to the dunes, the embankments, where sands met shoals.
Another was nearby – and for a moment Melita thought she was hallucinating. She recognized the figure at once, but hadn’t seen her in such a long time that she could scarcely remember how many turns, how many revolutions, it’d been. Was it a mirage? A dream? The youth tilted her head, watched and waited, poised there, the water flickering beneath her feet, maneuvering her closer, until the other moved.
“Vai!?” She screamed, vehement, ardent howl across the waves, and then she was sprinting, running full tilt towards the healer.
beautiful to see, but poison to touch
calm and chaos, evolved and still evolving
MELITA
