MELITA
Her eyes watched the writing contort over the paper, the document nearly filled to the brim on its airs and explanations. Brows furrowed slightly as she read, because she hadn’t really known much about curses, how they were snagged, snared, or transferred, nor did she realize just how unlucky this particular mermaid had been. “I can try,” was a repeated addendum, a frown catching on her features. Not a promise, not a vow, but assurance of attempts (if she wasn't distracted by other perils in the meantime). Had this creature done something to earn their ire? Then she glanced towards the horizon, at the movement of the sun, and a horde of other things to accomplish – handing over the twig. “I have to go now, but I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” And perhaps, in the meantime, perhaps this poor Delta would be able to find a cure. With a hearty wave, and rising from where she’d been leaning and lingering along the canals, the youth grabbed hold of Fangorn, and they hastened off – the semblance of what she’d learned in the back of her mind.
{FIN}
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
