[se] tarnished but grand

The Honeybee

I believe in holding grudges
I'll heal in hell

Drinking on the beach, under the stars, was just as good as any other time to the Honeybee. And while she had no sorrows or angst to forgo and forget, at the moment, she could be charmed by the cosmic patterns in the sky, and simply exist.

Melita didn’t know peace well enough to consider this some sort of repose, but with her toes dug into the sand, lanterns placed on rocks so they glittered overhead, and only the vague sounds of waves, and other dune-interlopers further down the ocean avenue, she figured it was close enough. While Sila kept close watch, and Fangorn grumbled and played with the sandy grains in his vines, the youth wistfully glanced across the horizon, liquor bottle to her mouth on occasion, with a light hum strung underneath. “All right,” she cast off to her closest companion, coinciding with many other one-sided conversations she’d had with the pumpkin, “should we go for a healing item next,” as she’d discussed with others forever ago, ”or something else to blow shit up?”

A rhetorical inquiry, in her world. She could see his eerie eyes roll though, and she scoffed in response.

Pay a little more attention to the healing power
of incandescent rage

Melita