Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
It scorched, it sparked, it seared; not like the burning conflagrations at her back too. It reminded her of so many things – the radiance of Ampere’s powers, undulating and piercing in the time of her prestige, and then when she was gone and returned again against her will. When the same puncturing depths rampaged down Melita’s back as she dove to protect Clem, as the world clambered and seethed because lives taken were suddenly reclaimed.
It felt like a resurgence, a claim to her own feral, wild, wickedness, to days where she’d lost her innocence, and now permitted it to be destroyed in her precision, in her wake, in her mercurial debauchery. Revenge, justice, taking away the Rift’s control over her life – no longer the scars from there, but here, and how she could stretch and snag and court the incantations, enchantments, and rapacious edges to her too.
It sliced into the creature, and so did Sunjata’s, and together they seemed to crackle and sneer, the hunted beast sinking into the earth. She rose without a second thought, marching forward, closing in the gap, thinking of some amount of mercy, taking one more electric arrow, notching it onto her bow, and immediately releasing the taut string – intentions for its skull, its cranium, to lodge and end its misery.
It felt like a resurgence, a claim to her own feral, wild, wickedness, to days where she’d lost her innocence, and now permitted it to be destroyed in her precision, in her wake, in her mercurial debauchery. Revenge, justice, taking away the Rift’s control over her life – no longer the scars from there, but here, and how she could stretch and snag and court the incantations, enchantments, and rapacious edges to her too.
It sliced into the creature, and so did Sunjata’s, and together they seemed to crackle and sneer, the hunted beast sinking into the earth. She rose without a second thought, marching forward, closing in the gap, thinking of some amount of mercy, taking one more electric arrow, notching it onto her bow, and immediately releasing the taut string – intentions for its skull, its cranium, to lodge and end its misery.
Melita
