Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
She began to hum under her breath, some shanty about fire and blood, only lifting her gaze and her crooked smile into something far more devilish as he correctly guessed her tactics. “Maaaaybe.” A few chunks of the rock in her hands broke off into smaller fragments at the simplest touch, and she snorted as they scattered downwards. Forced to pick them up piece by piece, it became a slower effort than she’d hoped, and eventually funneled those into the outstretched bag too.
The pause in distinction though was enough for her to cease entirely – a stitch in the seams of her spine drawing her stare upwards to peer at him more distinctly. That she’d missed a letter didn’t surprise her – she’d bounded off rather quickly after discussing the task with Ludo. More big news. More surprises. More of the inevitable with Sunjata – because while Melita had always worn her impulsivity on her sleeve, lords knew it was a bold, rash, family trait, and the Flood took it with both hands and often went running.
Her eyes widened, mind going blank for a few moments while it absorbed the information. It revolved several times in her mind, as if she hadn’t heard something correctly. “A demigod…,” and once that path had cleared, the other followed through in its place. “But not for Safrin…” Her brows furrowed, and then she blinked rapidly, staring at a wall, then coming back towards him. “I’m not quite following.” She dropped more rocks into the satchel, then lifted up her hands, as if to document and illustrate her confusion. Forefingers were held aloft, like points. "How did you get there?"
The pause in distinction though was enough for her to cease entirely – a stitch in the seams of her spine drawing her stare upwards to peer at him more distinctly. That she’d missed a letter didn’t surprise her – she’d bounded off rather quickly after discussing the task with Ludo. More big news. More surprises. More of the inevitable with Sunjata – because while Melita had always worn her impulsivity on her sleeve, lords knew it was a bold, rash, family trait, and the Flood took it with both hands and often went running.
Her eyes widened, mind going blank for a few moments while it absorbed the information. It revolved several times in her mind, as if she hadn’t heard something correctly. “A demigod…,” and once that path had cleared, the other followed through in its place. “But not for Safrin…” Her brows furrowed, and then she blinked rapidly, staring at a wall, then coming back towards him. “I’m not quite following.” She dropped more rocks into the satchel, then lifted up her hands, as if to document and illustrate her confusion. Forefingers were held aloft, like points. "How did you get there?"
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
