Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Fangorn grumbled his own form of salutations, mostly to the wolf, while Melita maintained her easygoing grin, the reign of mischief striving to remain above the surface, rather than the apprehension muddling through. She crouched towards the pup and laughed at the inquiry, reaching out to scratch Lilly behind the ears, as the gourd bumbled and rolled closer. Her eyes inclined up, towards Sah, rounding out with a light, merry ease. “No one new. The same people lately, I’m afraid.” Except that wasn’t the fear creeping in; but it was easier to justify being obnoxious, over the trepidation kindling, stoking. “Is this your first party?” Uncertain about the Outlander’s view and experiences on things of this nature – and then even more dubious if she should outline the possibilities of the past.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
