I threw myself to the wolves
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1
MELITA
She hadn’t been so disgusted with herself in a while – not since allowing her sister and mother and her family to be departed from this world, not since becoming a failure, not since forgoing growth for impulsive, impetuous desires. The notion that she’d yearned to be savage, to be untamed, to be feral, and then granted it without her control, without her compliance, was a searing sentiment burning down the rapacity of her soul; it simmered her throat, it brewed against her ribs, it tore along the rest of her strength. Who was she anymore? To have believed in becoming a hideous, molten thing, and suddenly, when granted and given that opportunity, she hated the taste of it? The zeal, the fervor? The way she couldn’t distort her efforts, the way she couldn’t cease attacking those she cherished?

She and Fangorn wandered, the vampire gourd compliant (simply happy to have her returned to him), shoes finally on her feet, staff in her hand, collecting bits and pieces of pathways and trails not sodden and hidden by snow. In her palms she snagged a few stones and feathers, glanced upwards at the grace of luxere slinking along the same lanes, their glowing antlers and eyes twisting back towards her before bolting. Maybe they too recognized her inadequacies, her flaws, her defects. Where they’d once eaten fruit from her hand, they now scurried and ran. Something in her heart broke, and she found herself shifting down a familiar road – lantern lights showing her the way.

By the time she’d managed to find the shrine she felt like she was in pieces, foreign and unknown, completely altered from the person she thought she knew. Her limbs shook and she longed to shatter, right then and there, on the press of rime, glaciers, and darkness, the sun sinking below the tree-line, the canopies potentially treacherous. The youth didn’t care though, bending down to pray, to murmur, to whisper, as she took her ivory rocks, her feathers, and placed them along the altar. “Ludo,” she crooned, quiet, halfway between tears and rage, “Am I a monster?”
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun


Age: 7 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#2


Sadly, Ludo would not appear to console the nymph or help her put her pieces back together. To say Ludo was grounded would be a metaphysically strange thing to say, and yet it was probably still the most accurate.

Not that Melita would know this of course.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#3
MELITA
The silence was deafening; heartbreak suddenly alive and well in her chest. Perhaps this was the answer she feared facing: that even Ludo could see she was a menace, a cretin, a fiend,. They couldn’t be bothered to see her. They couldn’t be bothered to address her. They couldn’t be bothered to speak to her. Something within her broke a little, piece by piece, nudged in the direction of fissures and devastation, and her hands swept over her eyes, striving desperately not to cry. But the tears came nonetheless, rapid and descending, her frame curled up beside the shrine, under the dark canopies, Fangorn reaching for her, just as hopeless, just as torn. “This isn’t what I wanted,” she uttered between despondent, aching sobs, releasing all the tension, all the self-hatred, all the despair she’d managed to hold up inside herself for so long (be strong, be strong, be strong a manifestation, an echo, but it had nowhere to go now). “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, all she could do, all she could offer when the feathers and stones weren’t touched, when she was worthless, meaningless.
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun


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