Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
“Maybe,” she offered with a shrug of her shoulders, with the quiet that came with her unease. Her feet drifted in and out of the shoreline, toes dipping into the cool water, springing forth, crouching only now and then when she spotted something shiny and dignified. Once, she would’ve brought these towards Sunjata, or both uncles, proclaimed them wondrous, delicate, or beautiful things, inlaid them within weapons like they were stars and emblems of the divine. She knew better now – that they didn’t last, that the spectrums and hues altered, changed, and that she couldn’t hold onto such figments for much longer.
It made her want to cry; yearning for things she couldn’t have.
Melita hadn’t meant for her question to dovetail; but then again, it hadn’t been very though through or processed well. The honeybee regretted it instantly, the way it slipped past her tongue like a noose, and she hung her head, tired of being a thorn and nettle for now. “I know,” she whispered back, fingers gliding over an ivory rock, something that could’ve fallen from the moon. After all the fire, all the brimstone, she felt exhausted – as if with the fuel, the fire, and the kindling diminished, she was only ash and bone. “Will you become someone like Wessex?” Perhaps that was a fear too, and she could only look him straight in the eye then – afraid of the answer – of how the Wraith had twisted and turned herself within too.
It made her want to cry; yearning for things she couldn’t have.
Melita hadn’t meant for her question to dovetail; but then again, it hadn’t been very though through or processed well. The honeybee regretted it instantly, the way it slipped past her tongue like a noose, and she hung her head, tired of being a thorn and nettle for now. “I know,” she whispered back, fingers gliding over an ivory rock, something that could’ve fallen from the moon. After all the fire, all the brimstone, she felt exhausted – as if with the fuel, the fire, and the kindling diminished, she was only ash and bone. “Will you become someone like Wessex?” Perhaps that was a fear too, and she could only look him straight in the eye then – afraid of the answer – of how the Wraith had twisted and turned herself within too.
Melita
