[SE] Catch the Sun Before It Sparks Afire

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Had Melita not already been exposed to some of the more magical properties of Caido, and by extension, the Rift and Helovia, she might’ve been shocked, stupefied, and bewildered by the ivory raven settling along the fencepost and striving to talk with her. For an instant, she had been somewhat surprised, crushing the flinthopper in her grasp by accident, mouth rounding and open, before forming it back into a luminescent grin. The mystery and wonder of this world enticed and tempted her, beguiled her into more inquiries, more questions, more inquisitions with every pressing moment. Despite wishing she had some of their clarities and power, she also understood that her precision, prowess, and potential would simply have to be from herself; the world had never quite granted her any other enchantments but the lure of her own determination and resolve. But she also had people, friends, comrades, who extended their kindness, their benevolence, and she vowed and pledged to do the same, to give back, to return the favor, to savor and dig into the emboldened fortunes. “I’m Melita!” Then she turned back to the ferocious pumpkin, who was still tearing, rather viciously, into a few flinthoppers within reach. It wasn’t a pretty picture, and represented the vampire gourd at the core of what he really was, but he was hers, and she’d introduce him regardless of the maliciousness – because she was the same (vehemence and force, animosity and barbarity when the restlessness won her over, when the lands threatened to take apart the things she cherished the most). “This is Fangorn!” The gourd managed a grumble as it crunched down on some exoskeleton, and she masked a floating sigh. As for the aforementioned assistance, she settled into it with great relish, no pretenses, magnificent in her glorious efforts. “Sure!” Her war cries lifted again, extending back into a broader patch of tilting blades and earth, hands striving to catch more in her grasp. “What do you need them for?” The honeybee girl asked out of pure curiosity, conducting discourse with a talking raven as if this was perfectly normal, an everyday nuance, clutching one of the grasshoppers in her fingers and then glancing into the others’ basket – clearly all dead and dispatched. She made quick note, squished this one between her fingers and placing it in her container, mourning it only temporarily, since Fangorn had unleashed his unholy terror on at least ten, and she wouldn’t be able to save them all. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe