Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
An arch of her brow followed, expecting the steady display of ‘I’m fine’ that mostly everyone uttered when nothing was suitable (signal and code for: thank you very much but please carry on and leave me alone), when it altered and changed. So she ceased her laughter (because she supposed it wasn’t very nice to giggle at an injured person), relegating to a more serious disposition.
“Hm,” she pondered, gaining closer access with her signature devil-may-care attitude, Fangorn tucking in close behind. “Maybe you twisted something?” Another shrug of her shoulders followed, before her gaze lifted over the surroundings, pondering whereabouts and lengths of potential journeys. “I’m not a healer,” which was probably obvious by the way she carried herself. “But Frey’s Breath is close by. Maybe some of that water will help.” If it was good enough for sickness, perhaps it’d be decent enough for wounded ligaments or busted ankles.
“Hm,” she pondered, gaining closer access with her signature devil-may-care attitude, Fangorn tucking in close behind. “Maybe you twisted something?” Another shrug of her shoulders followed, before her gaze lifted over the surroundings, pondering whereabouts and lengths of potential journeys. “I’m not a healer,” which was probably obvious by the way she carried herself. “But Frey’s Breath is close by. Maybe some of that water will help.” If it was good enough for sickness, perhaps it’d be decent enough for wounded ligaments or busted ankles.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
