knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
She nodded against him, the weight of a hundred things on her mind, trying desperately to understand those lives led, and how to shape them alongside hers. The honeybee had fought to survive too, after careening losses, after feral trappings, after her childhood became about fighting, enduring, rather than anything non-traumatic, or hopeful. But she kept her silence within those thresholds, uncertain how or what else to convey. That she wished he’d figure it out? That she’d given him a roadmap of how to deal with her? That it was all very simple, concrete, and tangible?
She just wanted to be included. Thought of. A part of this place, instead of constantly pushed and pulled off to the side, about as insignificant as she felt sometimes.
Melita couldn’t say anything more on this damned LongNight either, not without some kind of melancholy void, and she didn’t want to be consumed and swallowed down by it. Not by the possibilities. Not by the outliers. Not by the tangents. She’d deal with them as they came. The youth gave him a nod, then hastened all the other ramparts and remnants down, down, down.
One last hug, one last squeeze, before she unfurled from his embrace, and they could continue the bauble-making, the weaving, the intricate designs coming together. Eventually, through other small-talk and a sharing of hands, the ornaments looked well enough to settle upon the firling. “Do you want to come hang these with me?”
Then they could set off, placing them along unwinding boughs and giggling saplings, something to savor in the midst of what was to come.
{FIN <3}
She just wanted to be included. Thought of. A part of this place, instead of constantly pushed and pulled off to the side, about as insignificant as she felt sometimes.
Melita couldn’t say anything more on this damned LongNight either, not without some kind of melancholy void, and she didn’t want to be consumed and swallowed down by it. Not by the possibilities. Not by the outliers. Not by the tangents. She’d deal with them as they came. The youth gave him a nod, then hastened all the other ramparts and remnants down, down, down.
One last hug, one last squeeze, before she unfurled from his embrace, and they could continue the bauble-making, the weaving, the intricate designs coming together. Eventually, through other small-talk and a sharing of hands, the ornaments looked well enough to settle upon the firling. “Do you want to come hang these with me?”
Then they could set off, placing them along unwinding boughs and giggling saplings, something to savor in the midst of what was to come.
{FIN <3}
Melita
