to be lit up from within
vein by vein
The vampire gourd snickered, a grumbling, hissing sensation of a growl burrowing into the sand – decibels either meant to frighten Oliver further, or it resounded out of pure, wild, savage amusement. Maybe it was just the season, their time to rise and shine and irritate, or he simply enjoyed tormenting the man.Regardless, Melita moved on. She followed through her actions with the other lantern for the luxere; the sticks meant to represent skeletal structures, empty, hollowed bones, framing it all over, working steadily while Oliver continued the conversation. She tilted her head, lips thinning into a distant line at not being on the best of terms with Remi; whom she adored, but she didn’t ask. Didn’t pry. Didn’t reach in and ponder. The alchemist hadn’t had an easy go of it along any path. He announced his proclaim for a lantern infused and flared for Adam anyway, and the girl shrugged, her head and eyes drawn back down to her manifestations. “Sometimes you can put something on the lantern that reminds you of them.” She paused, humming under her breath, an expressive tune her mother would serenade the twins with during the morning hours, while they giggled and laughed beside wildflowers. “For instance, I made something for him on the memorial wall in the bar. A little gun.” Whether or not anyone would be able to identify it as that didn’t really bother her. “You can put his name on it too. Or anything else. The prayers can come at the festival.”
to be the sun
MELITA
