Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
With a childish cackle and some vicious glee, her features lit up again as the stones descended, marking their path in either elegance or pandemonium. Melita would prefer the latter, but took it regardless – following on Flora’s movements and motions by snagging a few to scatter simultaneously, enjoying the pattern of reverberations.
“He is good,” the Honeybee agreed of her merman friend – she just didn’t know where all of the world lingered. Well – to a certain extent. She wasn’t immune to the way this land worked – not as a smuggler, not as an individual with a penchant for violence. “Gods, a fountain of whiskey,” she hummed, as if it were a dream. “I guess I never thought of everything so united." Not in Torchline, where the brands of chaos leapt and bound and seemed to be the binding of sea and brine. "And I can’t imagine Hadama allowing some…things to continue.”
“He is good,” the Honeybee agreed of her merman friend – she just didn’t know where all of the world lingered. Well – to a certain extent. She wasn’t immune to the way this land worked – not as a smuggler, not as an individual with a penchant for violence. “Gods, a fountain of whiskey,” she hummed, as if it were a dream. “I guess I never thought of everything so united." Not in Torchline, where the brands of chaos leapt and bound and seemed to be the binding of sea and brine. "And I can’t imagine Hadama allowing some…things to continue.”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
