gold is the hand you press to her hip
oh darling,
Oh, she knows it’s not okay. But she can pretend that it is – pretend that the grief and regret that crashes over the small girl means more to her than the fluid seeping from her shoulder from the inflicted wound. It wasn’t Melita, but the guilt within her of how the blighted have changed and how she and her people may have caused it, begins to pour through her. And she holds the girl tight, to her chest, running somewhat cold hands through the youth’s hair, a tender, motherly touch. Because that’s all she can give her in this moment of clarity. She can’t fix it, but she can give the girl this.“It wasn’t you.” She tells her softly, continuing to hold her tight and brush the strands of hair from the girl’s face. “I don’t blame you Melita. The roses are going to work, I know it.” She doesn’t know it, but gods does she hope it does. “We will get you back to normal.” There’s a firm determination within her at this statement, hoping deep down that she’s not wrong and that the honeybee girl won’t be the most recent bright soul to succumb to the darkness afoot.
you'd even bleed preciously
REXANNA
