to be lit up from within
vein by vein
She listened, fascinated and enthralled, nodding her head along with Ludo’s notions and calculations. The quiver was automatically taken off her shoulder, handing it over, and the finality of the price didn’t stop her. “Okay,” easy acceptance, a nod, a pulse of movement.Perhaps it was her impulsivity, sentiments of deep ruminations that never quite reached her mind. Perhaps it was her impetuousness, prone to snagging and grasping things she craved, wanted, without a second thought. Perhaps there were things she simply wanted to forget, and this was the opportunity for it to dissipate entirely from her haunted snippets; incapable of pondering the consequences thereafter.
“What about this one?” The chill took over her soul when she thought of it, drummed it again in her memories – the Rift, deep in the smoke and ethers, a rampage of terror and treachery – her mother’s hands reaching to strangle her. It hadn’t been her real, corporeal, tangible, sweet, kind, and compassionate parent. The one who’d sung lullabies, The one who’d granted them free reign of wildflowers and sonnets. The one who’d told them ancient stories and legends. The one who’d sacrificed herself so that her daughters might live.
The wraith’s hands had been gnarled and knotted and smothering, tainted, twisted bouts of Rift infusions – she could remember the howls, the screams, the utter terror and fear, and Iskra pulling her out of the suffocating fumes. That was a moment she could sacrifice and give.
to be the sun
MELITA
