to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Her eyes flickered and fell; gilded embers reflecting off of fires, mind addled and whirling, fingers drumming against the bottle and not taking any more marshmallows. A frown lingered over her face, unaware and uncaring that it was occurring at all, head tilting, half-forgetting where she was in the story before Milo prompted her. “Oh, yeah,” a wayward sigh in her throat. “Ghosts of all their loved ones.”People cherished and devoted; wrangled into means of nothing but chains and tethers, lines of anger that had never existed, intangible threads of death and dominion that shouldn’t have belonged. Kiada somewhere in the midst, going after Kisamoa, who should’ve just drowned and been done with it. “But they were like…monsters. Not the way they were meant to be remembered.” She didn’t have the heart to draw it all out – the stick still in her hand.
to be the sun
MELITA
