Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Melita’s days since the war hadn’t truly altered – her heart still a spun brand of chaos and untamed spirit – raising her chin in wild defiance and sedition to the world around her. Upon approaching Flora though, she wondered, based on Enzo and everything else, on how to act. She'd lost her twin once too; and those were hard lines to bear. Should she be apologetic and regretful, hang her head and mourn more for the other youth? Or take it upon herself to ensure it was all still normal, like they hadn’t all been stung and broken and nettled apart by the way acrimony and death rested over their shoulders?
But then there were daggers flying, and she could only indulge with a slight smirk, eternally fond of weaponry. “Those are awesome,” she proclaimed, because they were, and the Honeybee wouldn’t lie about armaments. Sila unfurled some modicum of greeting by widening her jaws and then hiding behind Melita’s curtain of crimson hair, while Fangorn waved his vines and grumbled. “Want to go move rocks?” She gestured with her thumb towards the slew of them nestled amidst the pool; all dyed and hued.
But then there were daggers flying, and she could only indulge with a slight smirk, eternally fond of weaponry. “Those are awesome,” she proclaimed, because they were, and the Honeybee wouldn’t lie about armaments. Sila unfurled some modicum of greeting by widening her jaws and then hiding behind Melita’s curtain of crimson hair, while Fangorn waved his vines and grumbled. “Want to go move rocks?” She gestured with her thumb towards the slew of them nestled amidst the pool; all dyed and hued.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
