Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Did anyone communicate in this family? Another huff of a breath countered his weak explanation, and then she stuffed more of the slate into the bag, occupying her hands, her limbs, from an eventual tirade. But her eyes slid dangerously back to him across the brink, and he could probably count himself lucky, fortunate, that there was considerable distance between them now. He’d likely have to defend his balls again. The rage simmered, smoked, brought forth on fumes and plumes, as if he intended to ignite the inferno; a stupefying, bewildering motion. Perhaps that lined up with the characterization, the charades they were playing.
Her growl should’ve been enough of a warning. “You’ve probably given more thought about what I would do than any of your other stupid actions.” And no, she had no inclination to bury herself into the possibilities, the parameters, the demonic details of what was coming – she didn’t think like that. Didn’t operate on fear, on estimations, on trying to stay one step ahead of the game (look where it’d gotten him, after all). She was wilderness and fathoms, fury and vehemence, and she’d figure it out when the time came. “Ludo has been nothing but kind to me.” And she wasn’t going to betray that – nor Nate.
Done in and running on feral platitudes, the youth closed the sack, tightening the cords at the top. While Fangorn rumbled something incoherent, though likely on some apprehensive measures, the honeybee sneered back in the Flood’s direction. “Why don’t you worry about yourself?” He could stuff his what ifs right up his ass.
Then she began to stomp her way further, backtracking along lava rivulets and rock.
Her growl should’ve been enough of a warning. “You’ve probably given more thought about what I would do than any of your other stupid actions.” And no, she had no inclination to bury herself into the possibilities, the parameters, the demonic details of what was coming – she didn’t think like that. Didn’t operate on fear, on estimations, on trying to stay one step ahead of the game (look where it’d gotten him, after all). She was wilderness and fathoms, fury and vehemence, and she’d figure it out when the time came. “Ludo has been nothing but kind to me.” And she wasn’t going to betray that – nor Nate.
Done in and running on feral platitudes, the youth closed the sack, tightening the cords at the top. While Fangorn rumbled something incoherent, though likely on some apprehensive measures, the honeybee sneered back in the Flood’s direction. “Why don’t you worry about yourself?” He could stuff his what ifs right up his ass.
Then she began to stomp her way further, backtracking along lava rivulets and rock.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
