M E L I T A
Intertwined with the notion of Helovia were woven spells of beings come to life: regal and noble Mauja, stronger than the underlying notions, than the glaciers, than the stars, admiration from afar or nearby. But stronger, fiercer, were the undulations of uncertainty, the waves of apprehension smothered into a stretch of oblivion. She didn’t know if she wanted to see her daughter? Her head tilted, and she couldn’t hide her disbelief – given any opportunity at all, she would’ve raced against time, bruises, lacerations, and threatened to be torn apart to get back to her sister, her mother, her friends, the remnants of a broken schism and system. “I’d do anything to see my family again.” Her voice was neither quiet nor a roar, but a defiant twist and turn of her chin, a scalding, blistering look in her gilded eyes. Here was an opportunity, even if things were weird and awkward, even if they were different apparitions and versions of themselves, to be with one another again, and she didn’t want to take it? How would she know how they’d interact without attempting? It mauled at her core, made her wring her hands together, fingers bending in amidst their brethren, features striving not to look scandalized, irritated, or exasperated. “You won’t know until you try.” But then again – who was she to force it upon Rexanna, or Kiada? They weren’t friends – more rancorous intonations and memories than anything else – but she had no intention of making her life miserable. She clenched her jaw, and strived not to ball her hands into fists. “I just think…given the chance, you should take it.” No matter how the honeybee girl had begged, pleaded, and cried into the void, the abyss never answered back; the same reverberation of silence playing against her ears, hollow and miserable. “But that’s your decision.” Then she hung her head, stared at the ground, pushed pebbles with her shoe.
