Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
The anger was quick and volatile, always just underneath the surface of her skin. In flares and cinders, amidst infernos and conflagrations, just waiting for the right moment to spark, sizzle, sear; a stoking of all those vicious fires. The honeybee was positively molten now, and if she’d been attuned there would’ve been fangs – but she howled just the same, her eyes narrowed in his quiet. In the way he shunned and cowered. In the way he simply let it be – as if all these foregone conclusions didn’t matter, when he was wrecking other people’s lives.
The first answer momentarily stupefied her – mostly because it was so foolish and ignorant. “What do you mean they don’t know how? Then why would you agree to it? Why would you trust her?” Her ire was for so many all at once: for Sunjata, who seemed to never learn anything from his mistakes, trials, or tribulations, for Nate, who never seemed to have an option but to linger in these bewildering facets, for Hotaru, who came back and probably believed in this fucking moron.
The Voice had his soul – right, great. How were any other gods or heralds supposed to retrieve them, when they hadn’t thus far?
Her head shook and if it were possible the entire wake around her would’ve been smoking, fuming. Fangorn wisely grumbled off to the side, trying to distract with the rustling of his vines. “Are you? Are you working on it with him, or just going along with whatever you think is best?” A snarl, a sneer. “Because somehow, someway, this is always about you.” Gods, wouldn't she love to use her staff and crack it right over the top of his skull. "All this shit: your father, the house, this baby, could've been stopped if you got your head out of your ass. If you thought for just one fucking second."
The fists came back to her sides, and she breathed for a moment, lips pulled right back into their thin line again. "It's exhausting." Her companion rumbled again, and she didn't look at him, couldn't look away from the semblance of the man before her - her roar not yet muted. "And someone always has to forgive you. Or clean up after your messes. And so nothing changes. You do the same shit over and over and over again."
The first answer momentarily stupefied her – mostly because it was so foolish and ignorant. “What do you mean they don’t know how? Then why would you agree to it? Why would you trust her?” Her ire was for so many all at once: for Sunjata, who seemed to never learn anything from his mistakes, trials, or tribulations, for Nate, who never seemed to have an option but to linger in these bewildering facets, for Hotaru, who came back and probably believed in this fucking moron.
The Voice had his soul – right, great. How were any other gods or heralds supposed to retrieve them, when they hadn’t thus far?
Her head shook and if it were possible the entire wake around her would’ve been smoking, fuming. Fangorn wisely grumbled off to the side, trying to distract with the rustling of his vines. “Are you? Are you working on it with him, or just going along with whatever you think is best?” A snarl, a sneer. “Because somehow, someway, this is always about you.” Gods, wouldn't she love to use her staff and crack it right over the top of his skull. "All this shit: your father, the house, this baby, could've been stopped if you got your head out of your ass. If you thought for just one fucking second."
The fists came back to her sides, and she breathed for a moment, lips pulled right back into their thin line again. "It's exhausting." Her companion rumbled again, and she didn't look at him, couldn't look away from the semblance of the man before her - her roar not yet muted. "And someone always has to forgive you. Or clean up after your messes. And so nothing changes. You do the same shit over and over and over again."
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
