played it so nonchalant

There were a few, brief moments where nothing happened – the droning was still there, buzzing between her ears, unpleasant, raw, and blistering, crawling across her skin like pungent notes and persistent chords. She nearly folded and broke apart, because she had naught else she could think of, no magic to curb the restless, unrelenting acrimony, the disastrous sounds, the incredible, disturbing paranoia (a hiss - we’re coming for you). Then she breathed, gulped, and gasped for air, and seemed released from the obstinate prison – no feral calamity rushing towards her, no spiraling waves of apprehension, and she couldn’t recall feeling so relaxed, so at peace, caught and lined in repose. The girl nearly laughed, shaking her head, incredibly pleased with her abilities, with her notions, finally cured of the malicious zeal; but then everything spiraled before her, the sun, the moon, the stars, the heavens, and she didn’t know which way was up, which way was down, where lines crossed and if there was a center, a whole, anything beyond the void. Her legs shifted beneath her and she had no control, forelegs drifting at odd angles, so when she looked down they seemed disconnected, surreal, parts of the phantoms and wraiths – giggling, flustered, incapable of doing anything other than staring into the abyss. “Why-“ she started to utter, gaze attempting to focus on Sila, yearning for answers when the rush of hysteria left her and the unknown, the savagery, filled in the empty spaces. But little Melita couldn’t get past the first word, grinning stupidly into the day, into the night, chasing down petals and butterflies and warbles of a different time, a different place, calling out with singsong tunes and whimsical, mercurial motions. She could almost feel Sila reaching out to her, warning her of no more, but it was already too late for that, and the world was spinning, spinning, spinning, and she’d be lost, she’d be gone, and naught would matter any more-

A voice called out through the haze, and she blinked, focusing on shifting shadows, on a darkened, horned presence she couldn’t remember (not that she would; her mind was mush and her methods were inept). His voice sounded far away and too close all at the same time, and this was monstrously, wickedly funny to her, a fairy delight in the den of demons and heathens, so even as she stumbled and fell upon her side, she kicked at the air and giggled, smiled in a drugged delirium. “Mother gave herbs to others,” the honeybee child proclaimed, as if this explained everything, drove away the questions, the lecture, the omens, the inevitable irritation. “The droning is gone now,” she sang, pupils dilated, eyes roaming from color to color, hue to hue, darkness to darkness, incapable of focusing on one thing or another, a piece of the fluttering breeze and the incoming storm. They only rested on him for a moment before drifting to either Sila or the sky, asking the air rather than his being. “Are you a monster too?”

{For Melita’s trial!}

Melita

the fires found a home in me

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@Zubari  {Thank you so much Dressy!}