to be lit up from within
vein by vein
No haunted factions clouded or distorted her gaze, maneuvering through the throng with little effort, casting a cooler glance towards those who might’ve glared at Fangorn’s appearance. A few eyerolls and less than subtle threatening chords later, and she’d found herself a spare table over by the corner, until – Well, someone screamed her name.
And a chair fell. And then the man.
Brows furrowing, and maybe pretending it wasn’t her being called out (due to some past circumstances that she’d rather not repeat, but she recalled where her knives were instinctually), her eyes followed the same as many within the confines of the bar: straight to the tall, muscular man with the dog.
It took her a moment of calculation, but the familiarity of the individual’s face meant he wasn’t a stranger at all – features once pressed against glass, peering with her towards the bottom of an ocean, laughing alongside her sister as they cheerfully drove themselves through waves and sand.
Ordinarily, she might refuse to believe it, but this world, and so many others, worked in mysterious, enigmatic ways, and she shouldn’t be surprised now if the past billowed upwards and slapped her. Not after so many years of painstakingly carving it away from her bones, or welcoming it with open arms, foolishly, dangerously. So she gripped her drink harder, and only advanced away from some gawking onlookers, to a feral whisper in his direction, cautiously moving towards the felled beast. “Iskra?”
to be the sun
MELITA
