a eulogy for roads untraveled

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

See, Melita had already tried the confrontation levels on her uncles. While they certainly weren’t over the realms of heralds entirely, it had been spitting vitriol and hard, difficult conversations. Nate had been far more receptive than Sunjata; the former seeming to listen, the latter caving inward. But nothing altered or changed. Breaks were had and then they clambered back together as if everything was fine and dandy. And that was why she couldn’t venture willy-nilly home, frolic in and out of the hallways, and put on some pretenses and airs. She couldn’t fake her way through a world notched and lined with so much tension, heartbreak, misunderstandings, and beleaguered lies.

So the youth frowned and kicked at more rocks along her feet, with far more force than necessary. The stones bounded and rolled, and she didn’t really care. “Kamaria’s fine.” He wouldn’t do anything to the little girl. “But I’m not sure how safe it would be for you. Or him.” Either tempers flaring – considering his experiences with Safrin, embroiled along the manipulation of it all. Mistakes had and held by each member of the party, and instead of mending they seemed to flare up in between the dregs and crags.

Fangorn seemed content anyway, which was more than what she could say in her blood and bones.

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury