there's always a glimmer in those
Aidon’s appearance was a welcome sight – the spirited smile returning within an instant at the dragon’s excited movements. “Hello again,” and she reached out to scratch the companion’s head, if he was willing; before responding to Maeve’s call with a flick of her other hand along the gate. It creaked open, and once she and Fangorn had entered, she closed it behind her – eyes immediately drifting over herbs and flowers.
Some she recognized and distracted herself with momentarily – rich blossoms and beautiful hues, or flora her mother would’ve once hanged to dry out, use for mending, soothing, and assuaging those that hurt, bled, scraped, and marred themselves. An itch for exploration thread through her veins and pulsed with her restless, fervent energy, but even Melita knew it’d be rude to scamper through another’s garden without granting proper greetings. Her head swung over to where Maeve seemed intent on weeds and lavender, a wave scampering through her movements and motions, before her eyes riveted on something else. “I’m okay. This garden is lovely.” Fangorn had taken notice of some bugs along the ground, chasing after them with ease, while her gaze riveted upon notions and semblances of other fronds and ferns. “He’s all right. We’ve seen these guys a number of times.” Then a grin unfolded, unfurled, not the least bit guilty. “It’s really fun to play games with them.” Like kicking, or throwing, or pummeling them in all directions before they could grab ahold of one’s ankles.
She approached again, threading her way through, fingers seeking out a few plumes. “How are you? Do you want any help?” At the very least, the honeybee was capable of weeding.
Some she recognized and distracted herself with momentarily – rich blossoms and beautiful hues, or flora her mother would’ve once hanged to dry out, use for mending, soothing, and assuaging those that hurt, bled, scraped, and marred themselves. An itch for exploration thread through her veins and pulsed with her restless, fervent energy, but even Melita knew it’d be rude to scamper through another’s garden without granting proper greetings. Her head swung over to where Maeve seemed intent on weeds and lavender, a wave scampering through her movements and motions, before her eyes riveted on something else. “I’m okay. This garden is lovely.” Fangorn had taken notice of some bugs along the ground, chasing after them with ease, while her gaze riveted upon notions and semblances of other fronds and ferns. “He’s all right. We’ve seen these guys a number of times.” Then a grin unfolded, unfurled, not the least bit guilty. “It’s really fun to play games with them.” Like kicking, or throwing, or pummeling them in all directions before they could grab ahold of one’s ankles.
She approached again, threading her way through, fingers seeking out a few plumes. “How are you? Do you want any help?” At the very least, the honeybee was capable of weeding.
who have been through the dark
MELITA
