watch her dance, she beckons you
fair warning: leave her to herself
At Vai’s gasp, Melita turned back around, her gilded gaze settled upon the tops of masts and the hanging sails, wrapped around poles and posts, waiting for the opportunity to be cast again, out into the embarking dawn. “Aren’t they lovely?” Her words were a wistful repose, when there were so many things within the world that weren’t; she took hold of those rooted moments where there was sanctity, serenity, striving for those little whispers, wisps, and dreams whenever she could. Whenever there wasn’t something dragging their claws down sides, ribs, and bones. “If we come this way,” and she leapt a little over a crooked, wooden board, “you’ll see the Ark!” As she turned, drifting around a corner, managing to materialize the steps by heart now.
But then her inquiry must have ignited something, because when she turned back with her winsome smile and ferocious grace, Vai’s smile seemed sad, diminished. Her features reflected into downcast measures, the slightest furrowing of her brow as they wandered amidst salt, sea, and gull cries, feeling like she’d stepped too far. She’d known Ashetta only by word of mouth; fierce and wild, just as Melita would’ve liked to be. A part of her heart panged too, because she did know what it meant to lose. “But you still have him,” she conjured, uncertain of what else to say or do; she was far too much like a child herself to ever think about raising her own. “And that counts for something.”
But then her inquiry must have ignited something, because when she turned back with her winsome smile and ferocious grace, Vai’s smile seemed sad, diminished. Her features reflected into downcast measures, the slightest furrowing of her brow as they wandered amidst salt, sea, and gull cries, feeling like she’d stepped too far. She’d known Ashetta only by word of mouth; fierce and wild, just as Melita would’ve liked to be. A part of her heart panged too, because she did know what it meant to lose. “But you still have him,” she conjured, uncertain of what else to say or do; she was far too much like a child herself to ever think about raising her own. “And that counts for something.”
beautiful to see, but poison to touch
calm and chaos, evolved and still evolving
MELITA
