MELITA
Her skull took on an uncanny, eerie tilt, otherworldly and clearly possessed, no longer fraught with emotions or lines, sketches and details that might’ve given the real Melita pause, that would have hinted to her no more. But that wasn’t her now, not in this midst of fervor and zeal, piercing and puncturing, a clawing scythe down her senses, crawling, pervading, persisting, through any experiences she’d ever had. The honeybee girl would’ve sunk into the ground and resisted, resisted, resisted. This new youth, the painted, puncturing monster she once though she yearned and craved to be, had none of those intuitions and misgivings; and all of the rage.She crouched forward, leaning into a slow, predatory march, one foot extended, then the other, slipping in amongst the roots and leaves as she sought out those precious flowers. They needed to be destroyed, abominations in the glimmers of savagery and refinement, all the better to be tangled and demolished. A glimpse of red and gold shuddered into her view, and for a moment, her features rang out in resplendence, a sanctified, bewitching accord that had once seemed o sweet, so kind, so compassionate, instantly sinking into a refined precipice of treachery and sedition. She raised her staff, and then sought to bring it down – believing one mighty swipe of its emboldened, timber expanse, with her power, with her strength behind it, would crush the disgusting, disturbing figure.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
