to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Fangorn hadn’t forgotten about the inflicted torture and intimidation upon Oliver. Truth be told, his lot, despite this being their great, grand season, didn’t overwhelm or spike fear in the hearts of men very often. So he angled himself in between the pair, squeezing in tightly towards Melita’s knee, snarling in Oliver’s direction, hoping to inspire, instigate, some trivial reaction, besides the wave, or peace-keeping gesture.Melita patted him on the head and sighed, shaking her own gently, the curls softly bounding in ringlets and rivulets, half-taken on the breeze, crimson in the air. On the other’s question, she maneuvered her pile of sticks, starting showing the foundational work, fingers fast, sure, and certain. “Here’s how I made mine last year,” and she continued to demonstrate, unfolding a second lantern to follow her first; neither done, but the materials and rendering complete for the inner workings. She slowed down significantly at each step, hoping Oliver would see how and where to wrap twine or string, how to ensure a quality structure so nothing fell apart when the time came. “We use these for the Festival, to honor those we’ve lost. I made one for my mother and sister before.” They now hung on the bar wall, memorials and memories, recollections in their embers, never to cease. “During the gathering, we hang them. Ludo comes, and eventually, one individual is chosen to see their loved ones again.” She’d never been selected, but had only been there for two cycles and turns – and she wasn’t sure what she’d even do, if it was to ever happen.
Her hands brought over more materials, to be shared and divided amongst them. Then she went back to her two, tilting her head, pondering which rocks, stones, and other portions would be best for them. “I’m making some for Adam and Peter’s companions. I figured a lot of people would be doing something for them, but maybe not the dragon or the luxere.” The girl shrugged, fingers already busy again, something to occupy her mind away from the heavy shambles of grief and lost. It was a time to revisit all of those glory days, but also the burden of sorrow, of melancholy, of how they continued to survive where others had not. Her quietly sauntered along the sands, eyes not directly pinpointed upon him, but along her craftmanship. “Who are you thinking of making one for?”
to be the sun
MELITA
