Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Melita hadn’t expected to draw the stranger’s interest. It hadn’t been in her inclinations or pursuits, too intent, bullheaded, and pre-occupied with a thousand other nuances springing through her mind. She coiled in on herself, a predilection of regard for treachery, signs she could be dangerous too, if given the right ammunition and motivation. “Looking for something,” was a hum under her breath, Fangorn grumbling and bounding beside her in response.
She could feel herself being sized up, and she straightened out her shoulders, conveyed every essence that she’d use the weapons at her disposal, if necessary. Predators and predators, carnivores and raptorial things, matching adornments, and she was poised, ready, for some caustic imbalance to shift. Uncertain if this man was a threat, she kept him along the corner of her gilded eyes, maneuvering cautiously towards the falls, drawn there on whims and potentials, on memories of worlds long, long gone.
Except she was riveted right back into the folds by her own curiosity, head completely turning towards the taller figure along his armaments. Brecken. Her gaze narrowed, the uncertainty suddenly there on her features, instead of the specious, stoked canvas of a youth eternally implored by fire and caprice. “I’m Melita.” The gourd along her ankles hastened for his own title to be announced, and she laughed, softly, a little more yielding. “This is Fangorn.” But then back to the reality of the caverns – “I only heard a little about it. The fire god Tanau? And then a lot of people became sick.” Precariousness wasn’t something that bothered or rankled; she’d been immersed in it since her childhood. What else lurked within was what sparked the intrigue.
She could feel herself being sized up, and she straightened out her shoulders, conveyed every essence that she’d use the weapons at her disposal, if necessary. Predators and predators, carnivores and raptorial things, matching adornments, and she was poised, ready, for some caustic imbalance to shift. Uncertain if this man was a threat, she kept him along the corner of her gilded eyes, maneuvering cautiously towards the falls, drawn there on whims and potentials, on memories of worlds long, long gone.
Except she was riveted right back into the folds by her own curiosity, head completely turning towards the taller figure along his armaments. Brecken. Her gaze narrowed, the uncertainty suddenly there on her features, instead of the specious, stoked canvas of a youth eternally implored by fire and caprice. “I’m Melita.” The gourd along her ankles hastened for his own title to be announced, and she laughed, softly, a little more yielding. “This is Fangorn.” But then back to the reality of the caverns – “I only heard a little about it. The fire god Tanau? And then a lot of people became sick.” Precariousness wasn’t something that bothered or rankled; she’d been immersed in it since her childhood. What else lurked within was what sparked the intrigue.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
