M E L I T A
Melita was a ball of delight, bouncing and swerving up and down, fractious, fervent energy coiled down her limbs and out through her movements, her motions, a tangible little force packaged too tightly. “I’m good!” And she was, with the promise of so many things to come: training, precision, practice, skirmishes, the blend of assurances and sunshine. It was enough to keep her buoyant and light, not fading into the background, not ducking into shadows, prancing into the radiance with her own foundation of pride, confidence, and ardency. She would've asked what Vai had been up to, but the answer was obvious, very clear in her eyes. “I haven’t checked in on the bees lately. Maybe after the festival!” She winked, returning the silliness and jubilation, a vow between hums and drones, picturing, imagining the sweet aroma of the honey nestled and tucked away in a beatific hive.
Felix, however, was another entirely new state of curiosity. The Rift hadn’t had many children born in its midst; most individuals were intent on survival, but not for their particular species. Escaping death nearly every day didn’t warrant many births – so she maneuvered herself closer, mouth slightly agape as she examined the sleepy eyes staring back at her. It truly was amazing how some had the ability to simply make another life inside their own, producing and protecting a vital core to their heart and soul. Once she’d recovered in her obvious inquisition, her lips drew back into a wondrous smile, her hand rising to give a little wave of her fingers. “Hello there!” She whispered, trying not to be a further disturbance.
