to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Melita strived to not come in like a killjoy when she remembered Aurelia was no longer part of the crew. Instead, she bounded and leapt and pretended that nothing was amiss – another season spent out at sea couldn’t be bad, no matter which difficulty they conjured or found – placing aside all the other ruminations swirling around her head. Perhaps it’d give her time to think things through, to mull over the quandaries stirring in that reckless mind. So her focus remained on Jack, on the Ark, on waving to Locke (had he taken a position?) and Milo (wondering if he’d been dragged here again, or come voluntarily), before gliding over, Fangorn in tow. Deals with the merfolk weren’t out of the ordinary, but island hopping could be. Humming her way down to the rowboat with little care, barefoot and content, she opted for the rowing proportions, seating Fangorn in her lap, and grabbing hold of the oars. “Ready!”
--
Melita decides to row!
to be the sun
MELITA
