but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
Endless nights and crackling bonfires and wild parties had her wandering, out into the depths of crystal clear waters, beneath the flicker and flare of flames, or along the coast’s winds, billowing in and out of the breeze as she pleased. It was all a waiting game now, and her restless limbs carried her across clifftops and beneath jungle boughs, occupying her mind, her body, her spirit, until she returned home, to the docks, or to somewhere in between. Her eyes caught glimpses of the world, and lingered on the voids – snatching upon lights on in the house, knowing Hotaru was returned, there too – all of them seemingly hovering on edges until Nate fought his way through LongNight.
Given her predilections, she would’ve stayed out the entire evening until it felt like morning, the parade of stars her guide, the minstrel lairs and lures of music down along the sands all-encompassing and laughter-inducing. But as with all things here, momentary peace was just that; fleeting and ephemeral.
And she knew, the little honeybee had always known, that the depths of repose were bittersweet, enough to keep one longing for it again, enough for the world to realize its glance, its prowess, was swift and keen. A flutter of wings broke her out of her daze from across the shore, staring into the water, toes dipped back into sand, and Fangorn’s rumbles signaled of Haai’s arrival – the griffin perched along her shoulder, distressed. The note in-between teeth, a rustle of paper in his fingers, and the drawn sigh meant the delusion was over.
Staff in hand, bow on her shoulder, huntress on the prowl for gods knew what, the youth hastened back to the house. What should’ve been a fortress, some means of safety and shelter, clearly hadn’t, if the haste in Sunjata’s script meant anything. So she went in with little hesitation, Fangorn at her heels and Haai fluttering before her, opening to find something shifted, altered, in the air. Sunjata with notes. Sunjata distressed. Sunjata quiet and silent.
“Hey,” she murmured, not quite so loud as to startle him, merely to announce her presence before she closed the aperture. It clicked shut behind her, and the companions scurried. Her gaze shifted, and her jaw clenched, and something pooled within her soul – apprehension, most likely – as she went to sit at the table, staff still in her hand, resting its edge on the floor. “What happened?”
Given her predilections, she would’ve stayed out the entire evening until it felt like morning, the parade of stars her guide, the minstrel lairs and lures of music down along the sands all-encompassing and laughter-inducing. But as with all things here, momentary peace was just that; fleeting and ephemeral.
And she knew, the little honeybee had always known, that the depths of repose were bittersweet, enough to keep one longing for it again, enough for the world to realize its glance, its prowess, was swift and keen. A flutter of wings broke her out of her daze from across the shore, staring into the water, toes dipped back into sand, and Fangorn’s rumbles signaled of Haai’s arrival – the griffin perched along her shoulder, distressed. The note in-between teeth, a rustle of paper in his fingers, and the drawn sigh meant the delusion was over.
Staff in hand, bow on her shoulder, huntress on the prowl for gods knew what, the youth hastened back to the house. What should’ve been a fortress, some means of safety and shelter, clearly hadn’t, if the haste in Sunjata’s script meant anything. So she went in with little hesitation, Fangorn at her heels and Haai fluttering before her, opening to find something shifted, altered, in the air. Sunjata with notes. Sunjata distressed. Sunjata quiet and silent.
“Hey,” she murmured, not quite so loud as to startle him, merely to announce her presence before she closed the aperture. It clicked shut behind her, and the companions scurried. Her gaze shifted, and her jaw clenched, and something pooled within her soul – apprehension, most likely – as she went to sit at the table, staff still in her hand, resting its edge on the floor. “What happened?”
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves
MELITA
