Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
They continued in their positions of maneuvering the beast inside; and though Melita thought it might be better to carve the creature up outdoors, she was too distracted to argue or plead her case.
Once they were within though, and the ramphire out of a scavenger’s wake, the permission to proceed down the hallway, and see, enter, her own manifested confines instigated a bright, fervent grin. She dropped the creature without hesitation, launching over the side, before leaping and bounding down the corridor, paying zero attention to anything else amongst or amidst the rooms. Her fixation was solely on the one prospered to her – and though she could hear Fangorn grumbling, aching to catch up, the excitement threading through her blood insisted she wait no longer.
She slowed when she finally came to the door, poking her head in and then proceeding with the rest of her frame. Her gilded gaze took it all in: Clementine’s lantern on the shelf, safe and pristine, her trinkets, and wildflowers she’d long since dried, reminders of a sibling never to have again. Her eyes followed along the bed and its spread, the table, the wardrobe, and then the sword glinting in little gentle beams of sunlight.
A rush of breath came over her, and she didn’t know what to say – other than to holler down the ramparts. “It’s perfect!”
Once they were within though, and the ramphire out of a scavenger’s wake, the permission to proceed down the hallway, and see, enter, her own manifested confines instigated a bright, fervent grin. She dropped the creature without hesitation, launching over the side, before leaping and bounding down the corridor, paying zero attention to anything else amongst or amidst the rooms. Her fixation was solely on the one prospered to her – and though she could hear Fangorn grumbling, aching to catch up, the excitement threading through her blood insisted she wait no longer.
She slowed when she finally came to the door, poking her head in and then proceeding with the rest of her frame. Her gilded gaze took it all in: Clementine’s lantern on the shelf, safe and pristine, her trinkets, and wildflowers she’d long since dried, reminders of a sibling never to have again. Her eyes followed along the bed and its spread, the table, the wardrobe, and then the sword glinting in little gentle beams of sunlight.
A rush of breath came over her, and she didn’t know what to say – other than to holler down the ramparts. “It’s perfect!”
Melita
