MELITA
Fangorn’s stare remained unrelenting, poised and positioned straight on Oliver, while Melita continued dabbing her finger into the mud, spreading out more lines, designed to be elongated luxere antlers. Perhaps Oliver was far more new to this world than the honeybee girl had realized; missing out on all the enigmatic pumpkin activities. “Oh, vampire gourds come out every Leafchange.” Maybe they were inspired by the season, invigorated and come to life with the spirit of withering, decaying finery, the press of LongNight grinding at their bones, the chilling wind, the noxious plumes, the decadence instigated and agitated. “Most of the time people use them for games. Or just destroy them.” One of her hands went to scratch the top of Fangorn’s head. “I happened upon him at the end of the season. He was one of the last.” To endure, to persevere, and her hurt had gone out for a fellow survivor. “I offered him some meat, and he stayed.” She shrugged; simple, not a complex bond to start. As for a positive life, she didn’t proffer any other extended comment but a bright, ebullient smile, a nod to hasten agreement. There were times where she’d orchestrated the very same. There were times when she did naught but sink into her despair, her melancholy, her grief.
She wasn’t certain about the monsters lingering beneath the bridge, fathoms deep – hadn’t met the ones during LongNight except by rumor or story, and it was much the same as the rumored ones down below. “I don’t know. I would think so, only because the LongNight ones are restricted to that time of year.” Her fingers flourished another set of antlers on her drawn luxere, so that it seemed far more mythical, far more regal, far more powerful and potent, imaginary, no beast capable of carrying such a crown.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Melita hadn’t meant to insinuate anything other than idle curiosity, her eyes flickering to his. It was too bad the Abandoned didn’t get to experience those things – born the way they were, punished for the way magic contorted through their veins, out of their control. “But yes, you certainly have time.”
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
But she's a forest fire
