Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
She picked at a few more of the berries, and between the drinks and the rest of her food, she felt lighter; not as sullen, not as morose, not as bitter or wounded. Hemming and hawing at a few of the remnants along the side of the bowl, the youth raised her eyes, an arch to her brow, as if Aurelia’s suggestion of not worrying about her uncle had never dawned on her. Nate’s promise hovered in the back of her mind, and the one she’d extended in return, shifting a little in her chair, uncertain what she was supposed to do with herself if she wasn’t trying to watch over Sunjata. “I have my doubts.” Based purely on experience and a shared family habit of getting into trouble – eyes narrowing slightly, in thought of the evening he’d come home in another’s blood, uncertain how or why, when or where, the crime had been committed.
Melita hadn’t ever been a little beast without some kind of purpose – but it hadn’t normally been for herself. Other than striving to become a monstrous heathen, so no one would touch her or her own, it’d been for the Ark, friends, crew, or family. And she only had so many of each left. The gilded gaze stared down into the bowl for a little while longer, vaguely uncertain and unsure in so many things when she used to be so resolved and purposeful. “Like what?” What were things one could do for themselves? The honeybee trained. The honeybee worked. The honeybee snarled and sneered and bit into the world, but only for tastes and morsels. Scraps.
The roll left on the table, prodded forward, the promised gift lifted her slightly out of the dejection and confusion. Her hands went to them, unraveling and unfurling in haste, until the strands loosened to behold a set of beautiful throwing knives; emblazoned and adorned with the sun. “Oh,” she murmured quietly, hardly above a whisper, fingers tracing over the pictures of the scorching element. “Where did you find these?”
Not to be outdone either, she wiped away some stray tear that had managed to conjure over her cheeks, and bent down to grab hold of the parcel she’d hidden underneath her chair. “For you,” she extended in one fell swoop, rising back and nearly tossing the package over. Inside, Aurelia might find a similar gift of weaponry – though this was a hand-carved bow, whittled in a brighter driftwood Melita had found along the shoreline days before.
Melita hadn’t ever been a little beast without some kind of purpose – but it hadn’t normally been for herself. Other than striving to become a monstrous heathen, so no one would touch her or her own, it’d been for the Ark, friends, crew, or family. And she only had so many of each left. The gilded gaze stared down into the bowl for a little while longer, vaguely uncertain and unsure in so many things when she used to be so resolved and purposeful. “Like what?” What were things one could do for themselves? The honeybee trained. The honeybee worked. The honeybee snarled and sneered and bit into the world, but only for tastes and morsels. Scraps.
The roll left on the table, prodded forward, the promised gift lifted her slightly out of the dejection and confusion. Her hands went to them, unraveling and unfurling in haste, until the strands loosened to behold a set of beautiful throwing knives; emblazoned and adorned with the sun. “Oh,” she murmured quietly, hardly above a whisper, fingers tracing over the pictures of the scorching element. “Where did you find these?”
Not to be outdone either, she wiped away some stray tear that had managed to conjure over her cheeks, and bent down to grab hold of the parcel she’d hidden underneath her chair. “For you,” she extended in one fell swoop, rising back and nearly tossing the package over. Inside, Aurelia might find a similar gift of weaponry – though this was a hand-carved bow, whittled in a brighter driftwood Melita had found along the shoreline days before.
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
