Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Neatly slicing a stewed carrot in half, she listened vaguely to his methods. “Supposedly all the LongNight monsters are gone though,” she offered, without the greatest conviction. Even with the Voice destroyed, those little inklings of what if always managed to transpire through. What if one had snuck into another land? What if they couldn’t all be destroyed? What if they’d found ways to exist without their goddess? She wouldn’t put anything past the world at this point – not with her time in Helovia, the Rift, and Caido.
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t any other shit out there,” and she shrugged, skewering another green bean with ease and chomping down the remains off her fork. “Maybe you can start your own LongNight traditions instead.” What with his…”new” schtick. Torchline had bonfires and drunken splendor. Hollowed Grounds had trauma. Halo had…probably fucking cold darkness. She didn’t know what the Greatwood or Stormbreak had (probably ignorance, racism, and obliviousness amongst the stones).
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t any other shit out there,” and she shrugged, skewering another green bean with ease and chomping down the remains off her fork. “Maybe you can start your own LongNight traditions instead.” What with his…”new” schtick. Torchline had bonfires and drunken splendor. Hollowed Grounds had trauma. Halo had…probably fucking cold darkness. She didn’t know what the Greatwood or Stormbreak had (probably ignorance, racism, and obliviousness amongst the stones).
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
