there's always a glimmer in those
Maybe because she knew the art of suffering, of agonizing, and then skimming over the surface of its marooning, harpooning efforts, she couldn’t quite sink into the arch of Oliver’s despair. It could’ve been his first time witnessing and being a part of the greater struggle, where lives were at stake, where there were more than just rumored ruins, but the potential for treachery, for annihilation. She shook her head for a matter of moments, clearing out the pathways and cobwebs in her mind, a slow, dwindling breath caught in the fractures and schisms. It might’ve sounded monotone, or merely tired, fatigued, exhausted by the stretch of too many seconds and instances battered against the rocks. She could at least answer one of Oliver’s inquiries. “The blight was from the Voice.” A shrug in turn, like it was something normal. Like all of these series and cycles were just a part of life here, whether good or bad. “The other things live and grow here, just the same as us.” Some were hazardous, some were rare, and some were wonderful. It just hadn’t been any of the latter in these hours.
Her eyes lingered back upon Sunjata, taking the hint and the cue, stretching out her limbs as best she could, unfurling from the aches and pains. “Right. Let’s go.” No use dwelling any longer, perhaps, or getting caught in the haze, in the trap of descending further and further into the fathoms. Better to do, conduct, and assist – grabbing hold of her items, and shuffling towards the door.
- FIN for Melita
Her eyes lingered back upon Sunjata, taking the hint and the cue, stretching out her limbs as best she could, unfurling from the aches and pains. “Right. Let’s go.” No use dwelling any longer, perhaps, or getting caught in the haze, in the trap of descending further and further into the fathoms. Better to do, conduct, and assist – grabbing hold of her items, and shuffling towards the door.
- FIN for Melita
who have been through the dark
MELITA
