to be lit up from within
vein by vein
For such a secret, the youth gave a shrug, grabbing hold of Fangorn and motioning off towards the crow’s nest. “All right.” Her glance caught the whirl of clouds, the notion of the creatures causing it, but she’d never been a witness to such things. No dread, no apprehension in her bones; just a singular curiosity. That quickly changed into delight – eyes widened at the sight of them along the next, placing Fangorn down upon the wooden boards and face turning into a wry grin. “Well, aren’t you all lovely!” And they were – beautiful, mystical, puffs of plumes and vestiges, already thoroughly distracted by whatever her task she’s been given. She’d be content to sit up here for hours and simply play amongst their docile, slithering entities. The youth sat down beside her gourd, who’d given a generous grumble of a greeting to the dragon-like creatures, before curling in along her knee. To the closest one, she offered a hand, not reaching out to touch, to pet, or to scratch without permission. “Are you enjoying the Ark too?”
--
Melita amuses herself with the cloud wyrms.
to be the sun
MELITA
