to be lit up from within
vein by vein
The Voice became the subject matter at hand – and she clenched her jaw, a hundred other circumstances unwinding along her brain. She’d been at the forefront of Voice undermining – her and the rest blighted, sickened, turned, shifted into some diseased, feral beings, no right or wrong, unhinged. “Yes, Ludo would be the herald to speak to.” A grim nod, since Ludo had been the one to ask Roana to murder one of the Voice’s own – and Melita had been cautious then too, pondering all the while, just how far vengeance wrought. “It asked another in previous years to kill an Ascended.” A warning, at the very least, as her voice quieted down, losing some hints of its previous enthusiasm; because Ludo could do a great many things, and the latter had been one of them. “A lot of us do.” A smile at the corner of her lips, brushing over the anxiety, the apprehension. “One year a bunch of us were blighted. We got sick because of the Voice’s actions. Some Ascended just say it was a mistake.” A shrug followed, as if the stranger would have to guess where her opinions remained on the matter, considering the circumstances she’d been dealt.
Blessings and praise sounded wonderful though – like Melita’s prior God of the Sun, in all his illustrious haze. He was gone now too, another sacrificial lamb, and it was so tiring to think of so many going the same route.
to be the sun
MELITA
