Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Inclined towards chaos? Melita’s magic words - though, to be fair, it usually didn't take much.
Her eyes narrowed in on other festival-goers, before they eventually pinpointed onTalyson. A dangerous edge immediately pooled within her – irritation, vexation, abhorrence – her memory of the limbo contest a vast pool of bitterness and rancor. Maneuvering away from Jack without a word, her strides swiftly brought her close to the courier and whatever party he’d manage to tangle himself with – she didn’t really care.
“Hey asshole,” she simmered, and the courier would be lucky to find her hands still full of food, otherwise there’d be a weapon firmly grasped. “Why’d you throw the contest?”
Her eyes narrowed in on other festival-goers, before they eventually pinpointed on
“Hey asshole,” she simmered, and the courier would be lucky to find her hands still full of food, otherwise there’d be a weapon firmly grasped. “Why’d you throw the contest?”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
