Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
The notions stirred something in her – devilish and miscreant, visible on the upturned corners of her mouth, much like a cat that had eaten the canary. And then several other unsuspecting vermin. “Oh. Now there’s a thought…,” and she tapped her chin idly, eyes quickly glancing over to the market. What were the chances she’d find some bauble that represented fire? Everything Kiada couldn’t have? Couldn’t touch? A visual representation of Melita’s continued existence, a thorn in her side, a proverbial piece of kindling ready to strike at any moment?
The thoughts themselves were incredibly satisfying.
Indulged, her head tilted at Hadama’s own predilections and necessities. “A remora? Isn’t that a fish?” Maybe she was missing a semblance of clarity, because it sounded like drama, underlying in the midst. She hadn’t realized the merfolk had such theatrics.
As for her own? Her nose wrinkled, but the malevolent smile didn't dim. “A sworn enemy.”
The thoughts themselves were incredibly satisfying.
Indulged, her head tilted at Hadama’s own predilections and necessities. “A remora? Isn’t that a fish?” Maybe she was missing a semblance of clarity, because it sounded like drama, underlying in the midst. She hadn’t realized the merfolk had such theatrics.
As for her own? Her nose wrinkled, but the malevolent smile didn't dim. “A sworn enemy.”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
