to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
Competition was probably the only excuse Melita needed (if it was a necessity at all – there was often only the overwhelming semblance of movement, motion, and restlessness coiled in the nettling of her spine to drive her onward). With the depths of her smirk suddenly, infinitely, in place, the Cheshire grin unfurled acceptance. “You’re on.” Fully expecting herself to win, of course.
So the youth snagged at her weaponry, and didn’t bother with the training proportions any longer. Might as well pierce, maul, and devastate – grabbing hold of the lightning portions, snicker never leaving. Listening to the sizzle, to the snap, to the crackling, popping regards as she notched it along the strand, Melita took a long, wayfaring breath. Thereafter, she lifted it upwards, pinpointing, scouting, and then tilting her head a fraction, rejoicing in the whistle as the arrow was released, singing its way through the air – clamoring for a bird.
It pierced with a mighty shock, and the Hel fell moments later.
So the youth snagged at her weaponry, and didn’t bother with the training proportions any longer. Might as well pierce, maul, and devastate – grabbing hold of the lightning portions, snicker never leaving. Listening to the sizzle, to the snap, to the crackling, popping regards as she notched it along the strand, Melita took a long, wayfaring breath. Thereafter, she lifted it upwards, pinpointing, scouting, and then tilting her head a fraction, rejoicing in the whistle as the arrow was released, singing its way through the air – clamoring for a bird.
It pierced with a mighty shock, and the Hel fell moments later.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
