watch her dance, she beckons you
fair warning: leave her to herself
Melita had followed Sunjata on a whim; no conversations or signs since the ridiculous wedding – weapons at her back, footsteps coiling into renewed springs of quieter motion, the healing process somewhat completed instead of depleted. She wasn’t really sure how to approach him anymore, not with the semblance of so many others shifts and things, except this bizarre little cloak and dagger motion – half-expecting it to lead her down roads of infantile wakes. The fact that it was a portal to Halo again shocked her (based on prior experiences, genies and the like), but she tucked her way along, holding Fangorn firm in her hands and offering some spare food she often kept packed.
Then she continued to trudge along, likely not nearly as sneaky as she intended – difficult to hold hushed footfalls, to not rush and leap, to not bound in audible diversions and dissonance. Then they were swept into the Tundra, and her eyes could only glean, distracted from her prior mission, by the presence of –
Safrin.
She’d never met another god, another herald, besides Ludo – off in the distance perhaps, like Frey, and for a moment she stood stock still, jaw unhinged on a gasp, enamored by the starlight, by the glow of color and the spectral reign of power, prestige, and beauty, blissful and blessed. Fangorn did much the same, not even a hiss or growl uttered, silent and stupefied in their bewilderment and enthrallment; forgetting their entire mission. There were words, but they hardly scratched the surface of her mind.
Then she continued to trudge along, likely not nearly as sneaky as she intended – difficult to hold hushed footfalls, to not rush and leap, to not bound in audible diversions and dissonance. Then they were swept into the Tundra, and her eyes could only glean, distracted from her prior mission, by the presence of –
Safrin.
She’d never met another god, another herald, besides Ludo – off in the distance perhaps, like Frey, and for a moment she stood stock still, jaw unhinged on a gasp, enamored by the starlight, by the glow of color and the spectral reign of power, prestige, and beauty, blissful and blessed. Fangorn did much the same, not even a hiss or growl uttered, silent and stupefied in their bewilderment and enthrallment; forgetting their entire mission. There were words, but they hardly scratched the surface of her mind.
beautiful to see, but poison to touch
calm and chaos, evolved and still evolving
MELITA
