Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Melita didn’t care about his armor, about the bob of his head, about the hollowness of his laugh. He’d earned her wrath, and several others’ over, for this latest stunt in a series of cataclysms, chaos, and stupidity. She was too far gone in her fury, in her ferocity, in the layers and lacquer of season after season, listening to his enduring sagas, striving to step in where and where she could, where he allowed her. But now, there was no escape from her mutinous, seditious melee, in the fire and flames of her words, in the tirade that seemed unending after all his poor answers, after his ridiculous responses. A hurricane, a gale, a tempestuous force, underneath all those compassionate strands; savage, wild, untamed, and she’d almost dare him to come any closer.
So she could split him apart where he stood.
None of them wanted to lose Nate. But she’d never thought to parade and flaunt herself to a goddess, and promise a child, for a conviction, a vow, that might not even happen. It could’ve been a ruse. It could’ve been an act. From atop her stump parapet, the conflagration didn’t cease, words sliding beyond teeth, no longer hidden, no longer composed and comprised for his wounded benefit. “Why didn’t you do that before? What happened to the bunker plans? What happened to all these other ideas? How did you get to that point?” Desperation? Idiocy? Senseless devotion?
Her own laugh, a bellow, a howl, a vicious little motion into the air, sprung at his inquiry. “I wouldn’t have gotten in the stupid situations in the first place!” She would’ve used some notion of common sense – not drugs, not hallucinating, not gliding off into ethers and destruction when there were other alternatives.
He could have his scales, he could hide behind them in her ferocity, but she wasn’t going to cease; not until the embers gave out. “At least you’ve figured that much out.” A growl settled into her chest, would’ve unfurled as puffs of fume and smoke if her body allowed it. “Then what are you going to do about it? Dig yourself another hole? How in the fuck are you going to fix this one?”
So she could split him apart where he stood.
None of them wanted to lose Nate. But she’d never thought to parade and flaunt herself to a goddess, and promise a child, for a conviction, a vow, that might not even happen. It could’ve been a ruse. It could’ve been an act. From atop her stump parapet, the conflagration didn’t cease, words sliding beyond teeth, no longer hidden, no longer composed and comprised for his wounded benefit. “Why didn’t you do that before? What happened to the bunker plans? What happened to all these other ideas? How did you get to that point?” Desperation? Idiocy? Senseless devotion?
Her own laugh, a bellow, a howl, a vicious little motion into the air, sprung at his inquiry. “I wouldn’t have gotten in the stupid situations in the first place!” She would’ve used some notion of common sense – not drugs, not hallucinating, not gliding off into ethers and destruction when there were other alternatives.
He could have his scales, he could hide behind them in her ferocity, but she wasn’t going to cease; not until the embers gave out. “At least you’ve figured that much out.” A growl settled into her chest, would’ve unfurled as puffs of fume and smoke if her body allowed it. “Then what are you going to do about it? Dig yourself another hole? How in the fuck are you going to fix this one?”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
