MELITA
Do not be sorry for me echoed and bound against her, but she didn’t know what else to feel, what else to say. Her brows furrowed idlely, hands touching over grass as she settled amongst the finery, the grandeur, of the shrine and Ludo’s existence. “More at play? Like what?” Those higher – like Vi, Mort, or Rae? Or the Voice? Maybe she didn't deserve to know. Maybe there was more at stake than she could even begin to fathom. Maybe she was too worthless, and it wasn't worth anyone's time or effort. Melita was out of touch with the recent comings and goings; not akin to the scheming, the closed door, hushed decibels, the knives threatening to do more than just retract. Something was coming, brewing, and brooding, and it was unlikely to go well. She swallowed down some choking bile though at Ludo’s final proclamation – what had upset the balance – seeking out those to destroy the Ascended parasites. Some of her friends were amongst those, and it scorched and seethed at her blood, made her scratch at her arm at the uncertainty, at the apprehension curling and coiling along her skin. If it was cruelty, if it was devastation, if it was ruin, if it wasn’t okay, or if it based on the blight’s nuances in her bones, if she would be inclined to agree. “Oh.” She paused, eyes flickering to the ground, to Fangorn, to the ether, before settling on the porcelain mask glinting at her. “You think they deserve to die?” All of them? Some of them? Any?
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
