Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
Melita hadn’t survived all the catastrophes, all the trauma, by never noticing another’s reaction. Sometimes they were key indicators of foretold challenges, of pieces clambering together, a slow motion and movement building into a violent crescendo. Her gilded gaze took in Juniper’s stance, all while holding Fangorn as his vines whipped around out of boredom; her head tilting vaguely, striving not to give each and everything away about herself either.
Would the Fae be angry too, if they knew Nate was her uncle? If she hesitated for his behalf, and all the others?
A warning was just that - a warning - and if someone chose to press their wake, their heels, their hells, into the Greatwood after such foreboding circumstances, then they would have no one else to blame but themselves. So she raised her head, chin a tad defiant because some manner of youth always declared sedition, even if there was an angled smile on her features, a dazzling edge to her gilded gaze. “If you promise me you’ll warn them, then I’ll give you what you need.”
Would the Fae be angry too, if they knew Nate was her uncle? If she hesitated for his behalf, and all the others?
A warning was just that - a warning - and if someone chose to press their wake, their heels, their hells, into the Greatwood after such foreboding circumstances, then they would have no one else to blame but themselves. So she raised her head, chin a tad defiant because some manner of youth always declared sedition, even if there was an angled smile on her features, a dazzling edge to her gilded gaze. “If you promise me you’ll warn them, then I’ll give you what you need.”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
