to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Melita can’t do much more than stare – her offerings taken, her head bowed, then raised almost instantly thereafter, gazing along a LongHeat god. Not what she or Sunjata had imagined, pictured, months and seasons ago, and she almost laughed in spite of it all – but kept that tethered and hidden too. The heat punctured and pierced, and she recalled the images of the Dragon’s Throat, the binding, blinding glimpses of the sun, and it was almost peaceful, almost tranquil, almost like rivulets of home.But all she could proffer was her hand – gliding forward in efforts to provide support. She didn’t have any weaponry that would aid in a time like this; the arrows would seethe, burn, or freeze, and none of that would assist. The staff would maul. The honeybee was simply there; if the deity required it.
to be the sun
MELITA
