you must burn brighter than ever
Melita’s gaze went back to Fangorn and his rows of teeth, completely unbothered by the display. “How else does one lure a meat-eating pumpkin?” And she laughed, shrugging her shoulders, and bending down to snag at more of the pennants, figuring by now they’d have managed to find some better method. That she was a distraction, as Melita often divulged into similar factions and fashions, caused a brief laugh. Suitably flattered, she resumed her digging and rifling around. “Pleased to meet you, Azure.”
The spark of mischief though, the glint of devilry, were all tell-tale signs of a new fire-forged friend. The honeybee liked a great many things, and any sentiment with the barest hints of foolishness, ridiculous motions, or fiendish thoughts was given its due diligence. Her head snapped upwards, a Cheshire grin forming along her mouth, as the plan, notion, and idea suddenly came forward. “I like the way you think.” Her eyes darted back to some other remains of pennants in the box, sneaky, diverting. “Let’s try this one first.”
She collected a smaller section not tied off to the greater expanse, fingers fumbling around the adornments with relish. Eventually they were tied off neatly, into a ball, there in her palm, waiting to be sent down the square. Within half a moment, she’d done exactly that, reeling her hand back and then releasing the fixture in all its glory – watching as it bounded down the bazaar and into several patrons.
The spark of mischief though, the glint of devilry, were all tell-tale signs of a new fire-forged friend. The honeybee liked a great many things, and any sentiment with the barest hints of foolishness, ridiculous motions, or fiendish thoughts was given its due diligence. Her head snapped upwards, a Cheshire grin forming along her mouth, as the plan, notion, and idea suddenly came forward. “I like the way you think.” Her eyes darted back to some other remains of pennants in the box, sneaky, diverting. “Let’s try this one first.”
She collected a smaller section not tied off to the greater expanse, fingers fumbling around the adornments with relish. Eventually they were tied off neatly, into a ball, there in her palm, waiting to be sent down the square. Within half a moment, she’d done exactly that, reeling her hand back and then releasing the fixture in all its glory – watching as it bounded down the bazaar and into several patrons.
Melita
