i know, i've got a lot to learn

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

The bow was carefully placed into her bag, amongst and amidst the other accoutrements of destruction. Thereafter though, came something else, and she was once more stunned into silence, glancing over more artifacts. What she didn’t expect was a book, but the notions churning thereafter explained it well – Nate’s – with all the notations on healing, on soothing, on mending –

And she was immediately reminded of her mother too, of herbs hanging from ceilings, of plants sprung and collected, of buds blossoming and her gentle recitations that the Honeybee still couldn’t recall. “Oh,” was all she could emit for a moment, tenderly, gingerly, glossing her fingers over the book, far more careful than she had been with the weapon – as if it were a fragile thing. Reading down through the page, and memorizing nothing, made her bite her lip with the sudden swell of emotions, tucking them back and away. “This is great,” she muffled instead, all the fire and brimstone drifting down her throat. “Thank you.” So much that she didn’t even see the charm; too transfixed on a blend of old and new and past and present.

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury