MELITA
Ignored again, a warning gone astray – no one ever listened to her here, when she was trying to tell them about her past, when she was trying to reach out, when she was trying not to have them obliterated by the means of her measures. But there was no caring in her heart now, no radiating pulses of compassion or poise, just the Stygian void covering her eyes, her entity, her presence, her soul, piercing, piercing, piercing between the sunshine and sand. Her eyes darted momentarily to the firework, to the bright varnish of color flitting, flickering, dazzling her senses, a distraction, a deterrent; seconds passing before she hissed at that too.Then she lunged, not for the sparkler, but for Rexanna – timed somewhat imperfectly, still on her impulsive edges, because the Penumbra had anointed movements and motions at the same time, and there was a fumbling of her weapon, the staff winding down towards the woman’s shoulders, hoping to strike, hoping to hit, hoping to tear her apart, piece by piece, bone by bone. It was the only thing thundering and beckoning in her flesh, broken and dispirited and disastrous, nothing to make it stop but the clamor, the din, for demolition and wreckage. She would have it, a dark, dark promise in the back of her mind, unyielding and beseeching, colors of bloodbaths and ichor.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
