Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
As the arrow harpooned its way into fake Sunjata’s knee, she stifled a grin, head tilting slightly in Aurelia’s direction at the comment. “He’s my uncle and sometimes he just pisses me off.” By way of explanation. “The feeling is probably mutual.” The ruffian grin didn’t wash or varnish away though; accepting that they were far too similar, that impulsive, stupid, idiotic movements and maneuvers were par for the course with both of them. How Nate put up with the streamlined lunacy and foolishness was beyond her; grateful for him nonetheless.
She moved to snag another training arrow for both of them while Aurelia resumed her stance and poise, catching the quiet comment about anyone going up against her. And for a moment, she wondered if all her ferocity, all her vehemence, all her vengeful tactics had ever really mattered. If at some point the malice, menace, and fervency had wound away and actually accomplished anything other than a great deal of loathing, frustration, and bitterness.
But that was what she wanted to be sometimes – a fearful little demon, who no one would dare to hurt or harm again. Her eyes fell to the ground, and then her gaze quickly recovered the snicker, the Cheshire ramparts. “I wouldn’t,” she offered back, a command on the wind. “They earned it.” Earned her loathing, her contempt, her prowess, her condemnation. An arch of her brow remained towards Aurelia, but then let the rest of it go and glide into the wind.
Besides, they had effigies to destroy.
Except the honeybee’s eye caught the measures of fumbling fingers, but there wasn’t enough time to say anything before the armament was cast, and the element zoomed, skimming over the Sunjata model. A sigh flickered through her lungs, then a snort. “He gets away with so much.” She shook her head, and then assembled her critique. “You have to maintain that strong grip throughout. Give your fingers a break for a moment.” She made a show of shaking her own out, unclenching, flexing; but they were calloused and worn from years within the weapon’s reach, and hardly hurt nowadays.
Then she set her sights for the target the furthest distance away – another set of ghost whales painted on its side. “For all my experience though, I’ve yet to hit one of those damned whales.” Not for lack of trying with either cannon or arrow – and she seethed against it now, settled into her corruption. Striving on precision and might, she followed through on all of her tactics, drawing, pulling, releasing – and perhaps it was the distance, the misfortune, the luck the horrific beasts always had, but the arrow too skimmed over the top, and all she could do was sigh. “One day, you bastards.” Her gaze drifted back to Aurelia, proffering a nod, permitting her to try once more.
She moved to snag another training arrow for both of them while Aurelia resumed her stance and poise, catching the quiet comment about anyone going up against her. And for a moment, she wondered if all her ferocity, all her vehemence, all her vengeful tactics had ever really mattered. If at some point the malice, menace, and fervency had wound away and actually accomplished anything other than a great deal of loathing, frustration, and bitterness.
But that was what she wanted to be sometimes – a fearful little demon, who no one would dare to hurt or harm again. Her eyes fell to the ground, and then her gaze quickly recovered the snicker, the Cheshire ramparts. “I wouldn’t,” she offered back, a command on the wind. “They earned it.” Earned her loathing, her contempt, her prowess, her condemnation. An arch of her brow remained towards Aurelia, but then let the rest of it go and glide into the wind.
Besides, they had effigies to destroy.
Except the honeybee’s eye caught the measures of fumbling fingers, but there wasn’t enough time to say anything before the armament was cast, and the element zoomed, skimming over the Sunjata model. A sigh flickered through her lungs, then a snort. “He gets away with so much.” She shook her head, and then assembled her critique. “You have to maintain that strong grip throughout. Give your fingers a break for a moment.” She made a show of shaking her own out, unclenching, flexing; but they were calloused and worn from years within the weapon’s reach, and hardly hurt nowadays.
Then she set her sights for the target the furthest distance away – another set of ghost whales painted on its side. “For all my experience though, I’ve yet to hit one of those damned whales.” Not for lack of trying with either cannon or arrow – and she seethed against it now, settled into her corruption. Striving on precision and might, she followed through on all of her tactics, drawing, pulling, releasing – and perhaps it was the distance, the misfortune, the luck the horrific beasts always had, but the arrow too skimmed over the top, and all she could do was sigh. “One day, you bastards.” Her gaze drifted back to Aurelia, proffering a nod, permitting her to try once more.
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
