there's always a glimmer in those
Fangorn slept on while the two settled and conversed, likely tired from their latest adventures in Torchline, bounding and bouncing along sand and dunes, enough activity to make any sentient vampire gourd exhausted and fatigued. Melita’s heart went out to Isuma though, and she offered the gryphon some of the treats she had stored in the desk drawer, tossing them towards the creature. At the bard’s inquiry though, the youth could only shrug, a light lift to her shoulders. “The same as everyone else, I suppose.” Nothing special, nothing unique, going through the motions, the seasonal changes, attempting to survive and weather whatever storms were pummeling, coming, their way. Accomplishments had seemingly felt hard to come by – and maybe she simply wasn’t doing enough, struggling to find her place in every other alteration and schism along the horizon. Her eyes shifted to the tapestry – maybe the only thing of note, but it wouldn’t be worth anyone else’s time – only her memories of home, her essence of childhood, long since lost in the trials and tribulations of life. It’d just be the first string of tragedies. The gilded gaze riveted back to him quickly, a tilt of her head in curiosity. Surely the Loreseeker had seen or experienced far greater, grander things. “What about you?”
who have been through the dark
MELITA
