Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Her brows furrowed momentarily, just some dock workers getting sick; that could’ve been anything, or something else altogether, notched and knotted amongst the rest of the broken brethren. “Did they have anything like a fever? Or seem delusional?” How far had it spread? And had anyone found any other information?
But then Milo was bleeding, something caught along the debris, chafing at skin, and she dropped her items off into the pile, collecting the bandages she always carried in her bag, and tossing them to him. Arialla seemed more than willing to help too, and he should’ve been right as rain in no time.
That Arialla hadn’t gone to Safrin yet surprised the youth, but perhaps time simply hadn’t been on her side. “When you’re ready then,” and she smiled, a little light, a little airy. “Maybe you’ll find something here to bring to her.” Something admirable, something beautiful, something the goddess would enjoy.
As they all wove around together, back towards their shifting and moving, dragging pieces of refuse and wreckage along the shore, Milo would once again find himself plagued. As he dug into the boards, one fell, and if it weren’t an inanimate object it would seem almost deliberate, a blistering blow towards his hand. Perhaps he needed more bandages.
Melita, humming under her breath, had no issues in grabbing hold of another piece; some long-lost scaffolding, and eyeing some of the wood, decided most of it was still fairly useful. Not too dried out. Not too damaged. It could be used for something else – and the valuable portions were placed into the pile designated for recycling.
Arialla had far more fortune than Milo too – opting not for the trash and refuse, but the shining thing. As she dug further, she’d find a handle outlined in gold, the rest buried in the sand, some eaten away by the salt, but the rest already looking beautiful and ornate, neat details etched in ivory, sketchings of mermaid tails at the hilt. Would she keep digging?
--
Sorry for the delay!
Milo rolled badly once again, and now has more injuries on his hand.
Arialla has found a golden handle! The rest of it is buried!
Melita found some wood to be refurbished!
But then Milo was bleeding, something caught along the debris, chafing at skin, and she dropped her items off into the pile, collecting the bandages she always carried in her bag, and tossing them to him. Arialla seemed more than willing to help too, and he should’ve been right as rain in no time.
That Arialla hadn’t gone to Safrin yet surprised the youth, but perhaps time simply hadn’t been on her side. “When you’re ready then,” and she smiled, a little light, a little airy. “Maybe you’ll find something here to bring to her.” Something admirable, something beautiful, something the goddess would enjoy.
As they all wove around together, back towards their shifting and moving, dragging pieces of refuse and wreckage along the shore, Milo would once again find himself plagued. As he dug into the boards, one fell, and if it weren’t an inanimate object it would seem almost deliberate, a blistering blow towards his hand. Perhaps he needed more bandages.
Melita, humming under her breath, had no issues in grabbing hold of another piece; some long-lost scaffolding, and eyeing some of the wood, decided most of it was still fairly useful. Not too dried out. Not too damaged. It could be used for something else – and the valuable portions were placed into the pile designated for recycling.
Arialla had far more fortune than Milo too – opting not for the trash and refuse, but the shining thing. As she dug further, she’d find a handle outlined in gold, the rest buried in the sand, some eaten away by the salt, but the rest already looking beautiful and ornate, neat details etched in ivory, sketchings of mermaid tails at the hilt. Would she keep digging?
--
Sorry for the delay!
Melita found some wood to be refurbished!
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
