to be lit up from within
vein by vein
To a youth who’d been in three worlds before she reached adulthood, the prospect of never leaving one area struck her. The smile left for a moment, replaced by something akin to apologies and regrets, as if she’d dragged him out of every comfort he’d ever known. “Sorry,” she placated again, trying to find her way, her footing, in this dark, indulgent room, where everything seemed molded and melded into Stygian properties, and she wasn’t certain if they’d find anything worth note or healing here. “You can go back if you want. I can do this by myself.” A reassuring grin to replace the one lost, not quite meeting her eyes. Torchline was his home, and she’d yanked him from its shelter and sanctuary on a mercurial whim; because she’d known what it was like to traverse through kingdoms and sovereigns without a thought, without a care, without pre-conceived notions of what hell could be. She’d already lived it.Her steps followed and traced, bending around the bizarre pews, reminding her of the Temple in the Grounds, but these were particularly grounded in something else, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint what bothered her. Her gilded gaze rounded back to the thing in the middle, and she nodded to him, inspecting benches seemed far easier for the moment then figuring out the fractions and fragments in the center. Melita was once more reminded of Kisamoa, and all his deadly artifacts, repressing a shudder as her hands went to along blackened stones, tracing over their structures to see if anything remained behind.
to be the sun
MELITA
