Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
“No.” She wasn’t looking for treasure; she’d been wiling away at distractions, at deterrents, at ways to find herself out of the hole she’d put herself in. This strange encounter might have qualified as a diversion, but it hadn’t relaxed, hadn’t sent her into a repose. The knife in her hand continued its remaining stature, over the marks of callouses, a lightweight edge, an extension of her menace and fire. She hadn’t forgotten her quiver either, and it would only take a few moments to cast flames, electricity, or ice into the vicinity – but there seemed to be no other lingering threats.
Just confusion.
“What are you looking for then?” What treasure lingered here? She slid further into the groves, brushing past ferns, Fangorn’s vines gliding over the ground – a watchful eye, the corners of her gaze, the rush of sedition continuing its spread through her veins. Unaware if she was encroaching on any foreign plant that might not have enjoyed her presence – the inquiry pooled from her mouth into the eerie, enigmatic dusk, hollowed and hallowed out. “Who is your partner?” She’d continue on there, maybe, afford some matter of established brethren, kin, beloved things, if this wasn’t to be some shitshow parade. “I haven’t either,” Melita murmured after further consideration – the Rift had been home to many things, but no jungles, no vines, and Helovia’s midsts hadn’t unveiled anything, save for maybe the Hidden Falls, and she’d never wandered into that threshold.
Just confusion.
“What are you looking for then?” What treasure lingered here? She slid further into the groves, brushing past ferns, Fangorn’s vines gliding over the ground – a watchful eye, the corners of her gaze, the rush of sedition continuing its spread through her veins. Unaware if she was encroaching on any foreign plant that might not have enjoyed her presence – the inquiry pooled from her mouth into the eerie, enigmatic dusk, hollowed and hallowed out. “Who is your partner?” She’d continue on there, maybe, afford some matter of established brethren, kin, beloved things, if this wasn’t to be some shitshow parade. “I haven’t either,” Melita murmured after further consideration – the Rift had been home to many things, but no jungles, no vines, and Helovia’s midsts hadn’t unveiled anything, save for maybe the Hidden Falls, and she’d never wandered into that threshold.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
