to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
Bastien and his hair wasn’t quite the explanation, nor the tale she expected – her eyes widening a bit, before realizing there’d been a joke embedded in there, to break up the monotony of despair. “Oh, there might be some in the market.” A small grin, to take shape away from the faultiness, the furrowed brows, and the exhaustion. “I think you will. Once we figure things out, I have no doubts that people will go back and forth to help everyone.” Water, flowers, other multitudes and things she’d yet to fully grasp or understand – but they were all pieces of the puzzle, a bunch of minds working together, striving to collaborate through the haze, through the fog, through the doom and gloom.
The Grounds sounded as though they were inundated in the epidemic, Ascended with their needs (and a chill ran down her spine for a moment, at the way Amun had kept asking for a bite, at the way Samuel had snagged and tore at Remi, at the way needs, necessities, and wants seemed to blur together in hazardous proportions), and anyone else who managed to wander into the dirge. Melita didn’t know if she had the ability, the wherewithal, or the time to segment into that world too, while attempting to take care of the ones here. She couldn’t even find Nate, let alone break up fights (much less bathe someone).
Maybe she was just afraid. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she was concerned nothing would change, and the grit in her bones would merely be extinguished, eventually gone and riddled and scorched away by everything else. “We can try,” was all she could muster; apprehensive of making another promise she wouldn’t be able to keep.
The Grounds sounded as though they were inundated in the epidemic, Ascended with their needs (and a chill ran down her spine for a moment, at the way Amun had kept asking for a bite, at the way Samuel had snagged and tore at Remi, at the way needs, necessities, and wants seemed to blur together in hazardous proportions), and anyone else who managed to wander into the dirge. Melita didn’t know if she had the ability, the wherewithal, or the time to segment into that world too, while attempting to take care of the ones here. She couldn’t even find Nate, let alone break up fights (much less bathe someone).
Maybe she was just afraid. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she was concerned nothing would change, and the grit in her bones would merely be extinguished, eventually gone and riddled and scorched away by everything else. “We can try,” was all she could muster; apprehensive of making another promise she wouldn’t be able to keep.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
