to be lit up from within
vein by vein
The names and phrases meant nothing to her – but they held significance to the stranger, and so she listened, in the quiet, bubbling depths, in the kaleidoscope hues bristling near their armaments. Most Outlanders, like herself, like this woman, held special testaments in their heart to the places they cherished the most, worlds they’d never see again, images, places, and faces that would only spiral through their dreams and memories. Sometimes it helped to say them, to give them life again, so they weren’t merely aches and pains in the residual. So perhaps this was much like a shrine to her – and Melita could imagine it so, with a little sacred relic close at hand, a place to drop their offerings to whomever deigned it theirs. “Have you met any of the gods here?” A light whisper, haphazard maybe in its wake.But then another smile, tender and warm flourished. “That sounds wonderful. At least you have a fragment of what used to be.” She meant it in aspects of kindness, something to hold onto, to reflect upon, when these worlds seemed so very vast, different, strange, overwhelming, and bewildering.
to be the sun
MELITA
