MELITA
Excitement pulsed and raced along the youth’s bones, flesh, and soul; opportunities to express her endless enthusiasm, to shed the latent skin of LongNight’s crush, and to break apart the seams of normalcy were all right up her alley. While she wandered along various stalls in the rush and swarm of people, her eyes drifted along the various games available this year – wider, grander opportunities, and Melita intended to relish and savor at least one of them. Oliver’s familiar voice (though not as bounding or loud; she gave a half-hearted shrug in surprise), booming across the crowd, an announcement of capture the flag, only escalated her further into an obvious bout of reckless, buoyant, fervent energy. Fangorn hissed and grumbled in her arms as she raced along the fields, arriving abruptly, one hand saluting while the other held the gourd in the crook of her arm. “Excellent! Thanks for hosting this!” A loud, unrelenting sound of approval, while she hastened to follow directions, putting her companion down (much to his satisfaction), while she wrote her name down on one of the papers, and slid it into the jar. Incapable of containing the exuberance, she glided along the yard, waiting, waiting, waiting to see who else would show.
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
