to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
She pressed closer to the leaf buds and the little blooms within a thicket of damnation and itching, crawling, eldritch things, worlds that time or something else left behind, listening, humming, thoughts not truly present again, while Kai mused and she believed. Adapting, growing, thriving, despite anything and everything tossed their way – she wished, she wanted, she craved to be like that. Hours and days and eons spent in the press of shadows had shifted her into demonic embraces just to survive, and then after? Now? She didn’t know what she was besides fierce, protective, and determined, swallowing down the heartache, the residual proportions of years where she’d done nothing but wallow or grieve or spin in cycles and ruts. “Hopefully it will then,” she grinned, drawing back from its greenery, from its verdant bliss, revering it for what it was worth in the warren-seized world.
Sketched in his presence, brought along the labyrinth sanctities again, away from the chill, the Rift conundrums, a sheepish line outlined on her lips. “Sorry,” and she wrinkled her nose, so used to catching ablaze and waiting for the earth to catch up, chasing down ramparts and fortitudes, matching might for might, that very rarely, few, if ever, had called her back from the temptation of ruin and havoc. Fangorn pressed along her heels again, a singsong warble and growl intoned from his expanse, as if in eager agreement with Kai. “I didn’t.” Empty-handed too, for all her bluster and will. That afforded another sheepish enterprise, a swivel of her head towards another avenue and wake. “Do you want to try this way?”
Sketched in his presence, brought along the labyrinth sanctities again, away from the chill, the Rift conundrums, a sheepish line outlined on her lips. “Sorry,” and she wrinkled her nose, so used to catching ablaze and waiting for the earth to catch up, chasing down ramparts and fortitudes, matching might for might, that very rarely, few, if ever, had called her back from the temptation of ruin and havoc. Fangorn pressed along her heels again, a singsong warble and growl intoned from his expanse, as if in eager agreement with Kai. “I didn’t.” Empty-handed too, for all her bluster and will. That afforded another sheepish enterprise, a swivel of her head towards another avenue and wake. “Do you want to try this way?”
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
