Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
The offer was unexpected; shown in the depths of her raised brows and widened eyes, before they flickered downward again. “Sure.” She’d find a way to honor the companion – in armaments, in angles upon her arrows, in pieces and places where the memories wouldn’t fade. Emblazoned fire and scorching decibels, traces of flames and embers, multitudes of emblems and banners fit for a loyal creature.
Her head tilted in the other movements and motions though, vaguely watching as Fangorn finished off the jerky. “What kind of training?” If it was a hint that she was intrigued, she’d let it remain as such – though they both knew her best abilities laid in haphazard targets stacked by rocks and various tree limbs; just a place, a figment, to sharpen her skills. It’d been a long while since they’d trained together – not since before heated arguments and integral alterations, changes, that had embittered both to some degree. Melita wasn’t even certain what he’d been striving for lately – other than repose and peace from the past, and incoming, maelstroms.
Her head tilted in the other movements and motions though, vaguely watching as Fangorn finished off the jerky. “What kind of training?” If it was a hint that she was intrigued, she’d let it remain as such – though they both knew her best abilities laid in haphazard targets stacked by rocks and various tree limbs; just a place, a figment, to sharpen her skills. It’d been a long while since they’d trained together – not since before heated arguments and integral alterations, changes, that had embittered both to some degree. Melita wasn’t even certain what he’d been striving for lately – other than repose and peace from the past, and incoming, maelstroms.
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
