Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Melita stared. Stared and stared as the words flew over her, as Pemota descended. She could see she was causing some upset, some disruption over the pretenses, masks, and the lies, but apparently someone had to be the instigating ass around here. Someone had to be throwing the truth. Someone had to be denying the ridiculous nature of everything surrounding them – of all the nuances contained in that house, with its embers and stupidity and gods she couldn’t wait to take a break and sail off into who-knows-where, just to get away from the rampant, unnecessary drama. “That is such bullshit.” And he knew it. He had to know it. Fangorn grumbled at her feet, his vines coiling around her ankles in some way to subdue, but the flares were already there from residual conversations and thoughts surrounding her other stupid uncle. They were stoked and kindled with little prompting, and this, this was enough. She did manage to quiet her voice, however, muting it into less than a roar. “You don’t have to be okay after what he did.”
Was he going to immediately forgive him? Pretend nothing happened?
When a goddess’s child was brought into their home?
Baffled, she ceased wringing out the ends of her dress, dropping it thereafter where it dabbled over the edges of the water once more. She was so tired of the facades, of the masks, of all the stupefying ways everyone tiptoed around Sunjata as if he needed to be coddled every five seconds for things he initiated.
Nate’s good news. Right.
This didn’t always have to be about the Flood.
She sighed, trying to diffuse the coil of blood boiling in her heart, in her veins, in her flesh and bone. She shouldn’t even be mad at Nate. And for some reason, she didn’t expect this particular bomb to be dropped either.
Nate. Demigod of the Voice.
And she, an avid devotee to Ludo.
It hadn’t been an issue before. Or ever. And so she swallowed down that bile and tried not to recall how she felt about Wessex and similar properties, how there was a war looming and that sides were going to be drawn and she hated it. So for a moment, the honeybee put on that whimsical, mercurial grin, watched as extra arms came out an array of movement and motion. “Congratulations.” She just didn’t know what it would mean.
Was he going to immediately forgive him? Pretend nothing happened?
When a goddess’s child was brought into their home?
Baffled, she ceased wringing out the ends of her dress, dropping it thereafter where it dabbled over the edges of the water once more. She was so tired of the facades, of the masks, of all the stupefying ways everyone tiptoed around Sunjata as if he needed to be coddled every five seconds for things he initiated.
Nate’s good news. Right.
This didn’t always have to be about the Flood.
She sighed, trying to diffuse the coil of blood boiling in her heart, in her veins, in her flesh and bone. She shouldn’t even be mad at Nate. And for some reason, she didn’t expect this particular bomb to be dropped either.
Nate. Demigod of the Voice.
And she, an avid devotee to Ludo.
It hadn’t been an issue before. Or ever. And so she swallowed down that bile and tried not to recall how she felt about Wessex and similar properties, how there was a war looming and that sides were going to be drawn and she hated it. So for a moment, the honeybee put on that whimsical, mercurial grin, watched as extra arms came out an array of movement and motion. “Congratulations.” She just didn’t know what it would mean.
Melita
