you must burn brighter than ever
Melita wandered up and down the coast as she often did – feet bare, treading through soft sand, face to the wind, and consequences be damned. More often than not she held a purpose to her ventures, but today was caught by distraction after distraction: chasing after a few Hels, spotting some beautiful shells, and then staring out over the horizon, glancing at the other ships coming in before the monsoons hit. And soon, they too would be going out.
And something about it hastened her blood – curled and coiled and bloomed excitement again. Adventure to hold, to have, to rampage through once more, and with any luck, the charm she’d acquired might be worth something –
Her attention deviated and wandered again, and along with Fangorn’s grumbles and warnings, her brow furrowed. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes, she peered further down the sealine. The gourd started moving before she could though, which was very unlike him. “Hey, Fangorn!” A shout and a yell, but the little gourd was launching and leaping, vines swinging, and for once it was Melita striving to catch up.
They must’ve been quite a sight, pumpkin and youth racing down the shore, but there were other things to hasten towards. She recognized a shock of hair nestled over a hole – waving, friendly and amiable while Fangorn ceased his unrelenting movements. “Hi Oliver,” and then a series of sounds echoed from within. Brows furrowing, she glanced downward. “What’s going on?”
And something about it hastened her blood – curled and coiled and bloomed excitement again. Adventure to hold, to have, to rampage through once more, and with any luck, the charm she’d acquired might be worth something –
Her attention deviated and wandered again, and along with Fangorn’s grumbles and warnings, her brow furrowed. Lifting a hand to shield her eyes, she peered further down the sealine. The gourd started moving before she could though, which was very unlike him. “Hey, Fangorn!” A shout and a yell, but the little gourd was launching and leaping, vines swinging, and for once it was Melita striving to catch up.
They must’ve been quite a sight, pumpkin and youth racing down the shore, but there were other things to hasten towards. She recognized a shock of hair nestled over a hole – waving, friendly and amiable while Fangorn ceased his unrelenting movements. “Hi Oliver,” and then a series of sounds echoed from within. Brows furrowing, she glanced downward. “What’s going on?”
Melita
