Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
Melita’s estimations of her ice-skating prowess were certainly far more than anyone else would confess – mostly blustering for the sake of it. But she wasn’t going to share that with the courier, nor take up the invitation without the same wrinkle to her nose or the blasé turn of head over her shoulder. “Maybe,” which could mean anything, and she skipped further along the stones and snow, intending to rid herself of the cold and forge deeper into blankets or by the fire until all of this weird shit passed.
Her brows furrowed at his offer, perhaps too little too late. And she was a proud, independent dumbass – so the refusal bit behind her teeth in a notion of stubbornness that truly bent towards headstrong, obstinate stupidity. “No thanks,” before she persisted, continuing on her way. “Good luck with your rocks.”
Her brows furrowed at his offer, perhaps too little too late. And she was a proud, independent dumbass – so the refusal bit behind her teeth in a notion of stubbornness that truly bent towards headstrong, obstinate stupidity. “No thanks,” before she persisted, continuing on her way. “Good luck with your rocks.”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
