Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
And here was the issue. How did one explain impacts of heralds to their children? How did Melita – who only understood the bare minimums? Who was really trying, striving, to protect both Nate and Seren? Would her uncle be angry enough to do something? Would it backfire and ripple across already colossally bad events? The honeybee wasn’t certain, and the more she stayed away, the more she wondered. She shook her head, the long, wild locks flowing like embers, like some bizarre fire she’d unintentionally started. “I didn’t say you would. It’s because of Safrin.” She paused, uncertain how to even explain. “It’s not wrong to want to see your family.” Even if Melita avoided hers like the plague.
Her brows furrowed, hands wringing together, the whole matter a blown-up cataclysm. For once, she hadn’t wanted to add to the flames. “Just be careful.” A shrug of her shoulders, a touch into the sand, as if to ground herself in the melee.
Her brows furrowed, hands wringing together, the whole matter a blown-up cataclysm. For once, she hadn’t wanted to add to the flames. “Just be careful.” A shrug of her shoulders, a touch into the sand, as if to ground herself in the melee.
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
