to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
Her memories flickered to that particular event in Torchline, which also…hadn’t gone well. “Ours wasn’t great either.” Dramatics, an unfolding of theatrics, biting, starbolt throwing, enough chaos to last another season, when they were only in the midst of it. There was no way of knowing what else was to come, and that was the true trepidation laying in her soul, smothering down everything. What next? What other notions and disturbances would they be fending off? And when would this one be cleared up?
His mentioning of the water left her weary, a shrug to her shoulders to indicate her explanation. “I know – but I just wanted to make sure.” In case she missed him, overlooked him, happened to pass by where he was wandering, sauntering, the uncertainty plaguing her heart and lungs, desperate for any sort of clue or answer. “And I was offering something to Safrin. In case that helped.” Her gilded gaze settled back over the waves, where the little stone had fallen, no doubt picked up and tossed back into vestiges, hastened to roam like a piece of the moon.
The semblance and sensation of his worries, of his apprehensions, only served to amplify her own – the determination molded and melded into her brow, as her eyes dashed away from the shoreline. “We’ll find a cure.” Stubborn, stalwart, and audacious, the voice carried a range of assurances, and she left the doubts in her pulse, to coincide with the layers of bedlam stirred in her convictions. “I’m going to the Climb, later. To see if I can help discover something else too.”
His mentioning of the water left her weary, a shrug to her shoulders to indicate her explanation. “I know – but I just wanted to make sure.” In case she missed him, overlooked him, happened to pass by where he was wandering, sauntering, the uncertainty plaguing her heart and lungs, desperate for any sort of clue or answer. “And I was offering something to Safrin. In case that helped.” Her gilded gaze settled back over the waves, where the little stone had fallen, no doubt picked up and tossed back into vestiges, hastened to roam like a piece of the moon.
The semblance and sensation of his worries, of his apprehensions, only served to amplify her own – the determination molded and melded into her brow, as her eyes dashed away from the shoreline. “We’ll find a cure.” Stubborn, stalwart, and audacious, the voice carried a range of assurances, and she left the doubts in her pulse, to coincide with the layers of bedlam stirred in her convictions. “I’m going to the Climb, later. To see if I can help discover something else too.”
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
