MELITA
The reaction caused a snort from Melita, as her fingers glossed over the shell, admiring its colorations and stripes; depicting murk and mud, as if from the Feverlands, pitched along the earth, rather than once from the sparkling blue sea. “Good for you,” she laughed, not meaning it in any other sense – Maeve had plans, orchestrations, means, and measures behind her, rather than raging off to join a brutal, ferocious force. The next statement bolstered all her attention though, no longer riveted on any hues or blends. Her head shot upwards, eyes rounding, mouth agape in a frenzied bout of excitement. “Bees?! I love bees!” Namesake aside, she and her sister used to traipse behind her mother amidst those wonderful fields of wildflowers and herbs, pretending to be those insects; buzzing along in song and rhapsody that Melita had never been able to match without her beloved twin. “Have you seen the chorus ones? They’re lovely!” Exhilaration conjured, restlessness already pouring through her veins, she forgot about the shell in her hand, head tilting, striving to absorb the information. “Oh, yes please!”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
