every time she burns to ashes
Fangorn followed after Haai, vines intertwining or dragged along the floor, hastening to do the same as the griffin, despite lacking the proper structure (a nose) to do so. Perhaps it’d be by mere senses, far superior to humans, how he’d survived all these years before Melita conjured his soul into companionship. Determination had been instilled in the gourd too, and he grumbled at Haai, offering to help in some way.
Melita hummed under her breath, a steady song her mother used to sing; and though the melody likely wasn’t just right, it was meant to be soothing, assuaging, a way to mend confused, rattled souls. At his statement though, the glint of a rhapsody dropped, only to be replaced by a laugh. “Of course I am.” Mischief glimmered along her features, even if her heart ached for him, even if she had no other way to fight the terrors, the onslaughts, bridging over his mind. Nothing but reassurance, and tangible hooks. “Can I get you anything?” A repeat, a rendition, an offering to do something else, something more, hoping for an answer away and lifted from the anguish. Food? Water (if he took it at all?)
Melita hummed under her breath, a steady song her mother used to sing; and though the melody likely wasn’t just right, it was meant to be soothing, assuaging, a way to mend confused, rattled souls. At his statement though, the glint of a rhapsody dropped, only to be replaced by a laugh. “Of course I am.” Mischief glimmered along her features, even if her heart ached for him, even if she had no other way to fight the terrors, the onslaughts, bridging over his mind. Nothing but reassurance, and tangible hooks. “Can I get you anything?” A repeat, a rendition, an offering to do something else, something more, hoping for an answer away and lifted from the anguish. Food? Water (if he took it at all?)
she knows how to rise again
Melita
