Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
Ah, she hadn’t realized it wouldn’t have been enough. And something in the back of her mind didn’t like the thought of hacking away at her locks, even if half the time they were an unruly, wild, chaotic mess – symbolic of her fire, of her nature. It was a strange stroke of vanity and protection over her figure, unexpected, uncertainty ruling and reigning. So the youth took the scissors with a little bit of a scowl, not towards Juniper, but her own inclinations.
Before placing them downwards. “You can have some of my nails then,” and here she snorted, beginning to chip away at whatever growth she had, while Fangorn waved his vines around in boredom. Her curiosity followed rather than any explanation, not sure she could process it well enough. “Are you collecting from every race?”
Before placing them downwards. “You can have some of my nails then,” and here she snorted, beginning to chip away at whatever growth she had, while Fangorn waved his vines around in boredom. Her curiosity followed rather than any explanation, not sure she could process it well enough. “Are you collecting from every race?”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
