this wolf wild heart was not made to surrender

MELITA

Information here, safety in its relevance, and the girl stilled, quiet once more, a listening ear to the movement of rags and the beings behind masks. The lady Arduinna; her obsidian frame continuing to hold the poison, the toxins, the venom, the vitriol, once penetrating their veins. Melita only remembered her from the Undine’s healing, from the bestowed bow bracelet dangling along her wrist, from the times the Fae’s enigmas had washed and varnished over them in awe-inspiring quality. That she should stand there, sacrificed, for eternity seemed saddening too; a burden in the wood. Had the honeybee child ever realized? Ever thanked her, for taking it in, for pulling away the agony, the misery, the anguish, and the rage? The thought plucked at her heart; amends to be made, later, when they were allowed back into the midst.

A shrug from the deity, and she lifted her head, following the eldritch, bewitching movements like a cat, like a predator, like something else ethereal and otherworldly. “I would try,” she uttered – because that’s what she did. Tried. Attempted. Strived. Determination in her blood, in her soul, in her lungs. But how?

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun