Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
There’d been no accusations laden, not yet anyway. Though Melita was quick and prone to her illustrious temper, it hadn’t been cast into the situation – just a mere question, a speculation, mustered in some confusion and inquiry. Last she’d seen of Saiden, they’d been making Ludo dolls and she’d offered to go with him towards a shrine, to see if he could get his eye replaced. But no one else seemed concerned about his whereabouts, and Melita had to put it out of her mind. Maybe he’d taken his own personal sojourn.
So her eyes went to the crowd of buffoons, content with food in their mouths and bellies. A nod of understanding and comprehension passed, and before she could utter a word of protest, the broom was taken out of her hands, and she was invited, swept into the barrage of movement and motion. A stubborn inclination nearly had her plant her feet in protest, but as she had no good reason to, other than petulance and a rotten mood threatening to sour her essence, she grabbed hold of a bowl, and found herself plunking down at the table.
“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything,” she waved her hand, utensil digging into the food. On a whim though, a pre-determined, mercurial inclination, her gilded eyes went towards her beloved companion. “Can you go grab-,” and he seemed to know immediately, a grumble of a salute or angling of agreement rumbled from his presence, and he was off, vines swinging, down towards her quarters.
The honeybee explained none of the actions, tilting her head vaguely, gaze going back to the form of the ship. “How was your adventure?”
So her eyes went to the crowd of buffoons, content with food in their mouths and bellies. A nod of understanding and comprehension passed, and before she could utter a word of protest, the broom was taken out of her hands, and she was invited, swept into the barrage of movement and motion. A stubborn inclination nearly had her plant her feet in protest, but as she had no good reason to, other than petulance and a rotten mood threatening to sour her essence, she grabbed hold of a bowl, and found herself plunking down at the table.
“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything,” she waved her hand, utensil digging into the food. On a whim though, a pre-determined, mercurial inclination, her gilded eyes went towards her beloved companion. “Can you go grab-,” and he seemed to know immediately, a grumble of a salute or angling of agreement rumbled from his presence, and he was off, vines swinging, down towards her quarters.
The honeybee explained none of the actions, tilting her head vaguely, gaze going back to the form of the ship. “How was your adventure?”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
