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06-07-2017, 06:17 PM
These answers are boring.
Melita tried not to be affronted, offended, or taken aback, and only a little gasp had managed to escape her tiny mouth, which she closed quickly thereafter. She’d never been bored a day in her life! There were too many things in the world to enrapture, entice, and tempt her – all the wisdom, all the knowledge, all the glorious pieces of dust or sand, leaves and foliage, bright, illustrious colors, vivid hues, or sparkling, shimmering water, the zealous, fervent heat of fire. Perhaps these other creatures had already experienced those moments and wanted something new, fresh, overwhelming, so that they could impart more sagacity into their own lives.
But something about the herd - why they lived there and bonded to the lands – was a difficult answer to surmise for the tiny child. Melita had been born in the dunes, christened, anointed, and blessed amidst its sun and protection, shadowed beneath the rocky outcrops where dragons were said to have roamed, leathery wings blocking out the sky. She tilted her head a fraction, ears twitching, listening to the others’ reply, with their verses, stanzas, and refrains on family, on protection, on guidance. So the girl puffed out her chest, all pride, all serenity, all innocent impudence and audacity flickering between her eyes, mind, and soul, and smiled towards the oddities. “I was born in the Dragon’s Throat! I stay because I love my home, my friends, and my family. They’re the most important things to me – so I remain in the Throat because it holds what’s most dear!” Her final note was on a triumphant trill, wings fluffed out, plumage rustling from her sides, excited, ebullient, hoping that somehow she could convey everything she’d wanted to say in those brief words. They didn’t sound as wonderful as others’ speeches, but they were from the heart of a youth, and they resounded from her experiences thus far in her short, blissful life.
Seeking a Zephyr (Wakiya). No prior refusals.
Melita tried not to be affronted, offended, or taken aback, and only a little gasp had managed to escape her tiny mouth, which she closed quickly thereafter. She’d never been bored a day in her life! There were too many things in the world to enrapture, entice, and tempt her – all the wisdom, all the knowledge, all the glorious pieces of dust or sand, leaves and foliage, bright, illustrious colors, vivid hues, or sparkling, shimmering water, the zealous, fervent heat of fire. Perhaps these other creatures had already experienced those moments and wanted something new, fresh, overwhelming, so that they could impart more sagacity into their own lives.
But something about the herd - why they lived there and bonded to the lands – was a difficult answer to surmise for the tiny child. Melita had been born in the dunes, christened, anointed, and blessed amidst its sun and protection, shadowed beneath the rocky outcrops where dragons were said to have roamed, leathery wings blocking out the sky. She tilted her head a fraction, ears twitching, listening to the others’ reply, with their verses, stanzas, and refrains on family, on protection, on guidance. So the girl puffed out her chest, all pride, all serenity, all innocent impudence and audacity flickering between her eyes, mind, and soul, and smiled towards the oddities. “I was born in the Dragon’s Throat! I stay because I love my home, my friends, and my family. They’re the most important things to me – so I remain in the Throat because it holds what’s most dear!” Her final note was on a triumphant trill, wings fluffed out, plumage rustling from her sides, excited, ebullient, hoping that somehow she could convey everything she’d wanted to say in those brief words. They didn’t sound as wonderful as others’ speeches, but they were from the heart of a youth, and they resounded from her experiences thus far in her short, blissful life.
Seeking a Zephyr (Wakiya). No prior refusals.
Melita
let me live that fantasy
