Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
The stump was her throne as she peered down at him, walking onward, head ducked, knowing full well that he’d fucked up yet again. And she didn’t know who to be enraged for – where the lines blurred and crossed, where the beginnings surged and the endings began. He could have his armor, because as much as she desired to rampage and volley, maul, against it, the ripping and tearing wouldn’t do any good.
He never learned.
And she couldn’t quite believe the words she was hearing – the understanding, the clarity brighter, but the storm surging, grappling behind her eyes. A tempest, a fury, a hurricane crescendo in the back of her mind and aching to reach the surface, funneling past her lips in a ferocious snarl. “How? How could she save him? How could she do that?” And her balled fists were in the air, shaking, yearning to hurl and combat their way through something other than the sultry void – stupid, stupid, stupid man. It’d be so easy, so god damned tempting, to beat her vehemence against his thick skull, but it likely wouldn’t hurt anything. “Why couldn’t she just do it now?” Because Melita had to wonder if they were all just lies.
Fabrications and pretenses, for the starry goddess to get what she wanted.
And then more came, a tirade, a howl, a yell, breaking over the veneer of fronds and ferns, indifferent to any other wildlife stirring or hearing her empowered, belligerent haze. “And what about Nate? What did he have to say? Did he want this?”
He never learned.
And she couldn’t quite believe the words she was hearing – the understanding, the clarity brighter, but the storm surging, grappling behind her eyes. A tempest, a fury, a hurricane crescendo in the back of her mind and aching to reach the surface, funneling past her lips in a ferocious snarl. “How? How could she save him? How could she do that?” And her balled fists were in the air, shaking, yearning to hurl and combat their way through something other than the sultry void – stupid, stupid, stupid man. It’d be so easy, so god damned tempting, to beat her vehemence against his thick skull, but it likely wouldn’t hurt anything. “Why couldn’t she just do it now?” Because Melita had to wonder if they were all just lies.
Fabrications and pretenses, for the starry goddess to get what she wanted.
And then more came, a tirade, a howl, a yell, breaking over the veneer of fronds and ferns, indifferent to any other wildlife stirring or hearing her empowered, belligerent haze. “And what about Nate? What did he have to say? Did he want this?”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
