Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Fangorn settled himself into her lap, for lack of anything better to do, and perhaps because she needed it. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with his vines, playing them out then whisking them back in, as one might do with a small child. Though her gilded eyes weren’t pinpointed on her uncle, she listened carefully, pondering about things that might have been immersed in between. Kamaria being fine and well was decent enough, and the notions of Attunement prospering were intriguing, though Melita couldn’t imagine the girl going towards anyone else – Safrin would likely slay Sunjata on the spot otherwise. “That’s exciting,” she relented with a ghost of a smile. “Tell her I said congratulations.” Because she didn’t know where the youth was now – likely tucked away somewhere, out of the reach of many.
That the Flood asked what she’d been up to surprised her – any prior events had often been about him and his series of events and circumstances. Her brow furrowed after the initial shock, gaze resting back on the vampire gourd, who seemed to be grumbling low in warning. Most likely for herself. “Training and exploring here and there.” The results of the former had been obvious, based on the latest string of violence. “We’ll be sailing soon, I imagine.” But where to, she couldn’t be certain. Hadn’t been given any more of that news. “The Ark can fly now, so,” she shrugged; like this was a normal thing. It only gave credence to the opportunities of where they’d be sauntering and meandering off to next.
That the Flood asked what she’d been up to surprised her – any prior events had often been about him and his series of events and circumstances. Her brow furrowed after the initial shock, gaze resting back on the vampire gourd, who seemed to be grumbling low in warning. Most likely for herself. “Training and exploring here and there.” The results of the former had been obvious, based on the latest string of violence. “We’ll be sailing soon, I imagine.” But where to, she couldn’t be certain. Hadn’t been given any more of that news. “The Ark can fly now, so,” she shrugged; like this was a normal thing. It only gave credence to the opportunities of where they’d be sauntering and meandering off to next.
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
