to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
There was a voice on the wind, but it wasn’t Nate’s. She turned along the moonlight reaches and lantern light, shifting it upwards until she could recognize the figure, the pitch, the tones. No Ascended, but the shape and figure was familiar. Oliver. A sigh, a lull, and her eyes shot back to the sea briefly, wondering if her prayers were answered, or ignored, spurned, rejected. “I’m okay.” Physically, she was fine, emotionally she was on a very thin line, a tether snapping at the sides. “I’ve been looking for Nate. Have you seen him?” The potential that Oliver had his eyes and ears elsewhere could be effective – maybe the Ascended had been out wandering, and he’d happened to catch him.
She tilted her head a fraction, lifting the light more. “How are you?” A worry, that more were the same, that it would keep going, keep unraveling, keep infiltrating everyone and everything.
She tilted her head a fraction, lifting the light more. “How are you?” A worry, that more were the same, that it would keep going, keep unraveling, keep infiltrating everyone and everything.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
