Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
The lava rocks clanked together in a jagged, serrated way, falling into the bag, and it was the only sound for a few moments. Fangorn paused in his rustling, watching her, then watching him. Tried and true, the honeybee stilled once more, plucking at a few edges of the slate with her fingers, breathing in some semblance of a sigh, or deep inhales and exhales to keep her from bounding off the ledges.
She could see why he’d done it. He’d always been for Nate, even when the costs were great and the plans far off. But the inquiries thereafter were massive, and they couldn’t help bounding along her skull. Her eyes eventually glanced back up at her uncle, uncertain how to school her expression, so she tried for carefully neutral. Lines drawn, but not on her face. “What if she doesn’t agree?” Nate would still fight, she’d be on the opposing end, and Sunjata would be somewhere in the middle.
Did that mean they wouldn’t have to be involved at all? While the rest of them pledged and fled and died?
Something clenched in her jaw and she had to let it be, leave it alone, before the unrelenting wave became tumbling forward and she’d have no way back. One of Fangorn’s vines reached out toward her, and she gave it a little shake.
Safrin almost killed him (for his disloyalty, she assumed). And Ronin saved him.
“Gods,” she murmured, rubbing at her face once or twice. “What a fucking mess.” He’d always managed to find them, somehow, someway. “Do you think it was worth it?”
She could see why he’d done it. He’d always been for Nate, even when the costs were great and the plans far off. But the inquiries thereafter were massive, and they couldn’t help bounding along her skull. Her eyes eventually glanced back up at her uncle, uncertain how to school her expression, so she tried for carefully neutral. Lines drawn, but not on her face. “What if she doesn’t agree?” Nate would still fight, she’d be on the opposing end, and Sunjata would be somewhere in the middle.
Did that mean they wouldn’t have to be involved at all? While the rest of them pledged and fled and died?
Something clenched in her jaw and she had to let it be, leave it alone, before the unrelenting wave became tumbling forward and she’d have no way back. One of Fangorn’s vines reached out toward her, and she gave it a little shake.
Safrin almost killed him (for his disloyalty, she assumed). And Ronin saved him.
“Gods,” she murmured, rubbing at her face once or twice. “What a fucking mess.” He’d always managed to find them, somehow, someway. “Do you think it was worth it?”
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
