[se] scruff of the neck

The Honeybee

I believe in holding grudges
I'll heal in hell

Fangorn, dutiful and wily, gathered the paper and refuse in a nice little collective pile before beginning his usual growl and waving of vines to indicate another’s approach. Melita turned her head, not recognizing the individual, and probably would’ve kept right on going, presuming a tourist, had the younger woman not stepped almost immediately beside her. Eyeing her up and down, mostly for threats, she grabbed another top of a glass bottle, arching a crimson brow. “Oh. Yeah. It was,” came on a feral grin thereafter, presumptions of challenges and nothing more as she sauntered down the beach.

With her free hand, her fingers wrapped around a large portion of drywood, and began the process all over again, adding to the vampire gourd’s pile. Uncertain how else to broach the subject, and uncertain of this passerby, she tilted her head vaguely. “Do I know you? You from around here?”

Pay a little more attention to the healing power
of incandescent rage

Melita