there's always a glimmer in those
Melita understood limitations, but often-times ignored them. She persisted. She hissed. She scalded. She layered and lacquered herself to strands of potential, and quite frankly, wasn’t going to allow anyone or anything to stand in her way. But perhaps she hadn’t had so many setbacks, so many trials, so many tribulations as the rest of the world: content in reveling upon Remi’s back as they soared to plunge fiery arrows into a blighted vampire gourd, biting down on enamel and bone when she plunged staffs and summoned gods. Jigano’s quietude only caused her eyes to narrow, a tilt to her head, a fraction of something beyond instinctual demand and command floating through the cobwebs and infernos. “Maybe, in time then. It seems everyone grows in strength despite all the disasters.” As long as they survived; but what that persistence when the end result was more people gone? More brutalized? More torn apart? So that others could step in while they suffered? She didn’t know. It was an enigma, a quandary, the youth didn’t have an answer for. She could try to carve and whittle one, but it likely wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t be enough.
who have been through the dark
MELITA
