Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Instinctively, the Honeybee moved to grab a nearby towel, figuring she could dry each dish as they came through and save some labor and work. As he finished, she’d efficiently move over the edges of each utensil, pot, and pan, placing them down afterwards, giving her something to do in the middle of quiet mulling.
She nodded at the vague semblance of approval, and then listened to the assortment of other abilities she hadn’t known about. There’d always been the extra limbs (though she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to recreate such a thing – save for sticking pairs of hands out from the sides of the lantern; which may have given off a certain creepy and distinctive vibe Nate would’ve appreciated).
Ignorant of plasma balls but wishing she’d had them in her childhood, her eyes widened, fingers occupied by forks and knives. “I could make it look more like that, I suppose,” she pondered, gaze going to the floor in thought. “Or maybe a little drawing of his starwhale.”
She nodded at the vague semblance of approval, and then listened to the assortment of other abilities she hadn’t known about. There’d always been the extra limbs (though she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to recreate such a thing – save for sticking pairs of hands out from the sides of the lantern; which may have given off a certain creepy and distinctive vibe Nate would’ve appreciated).
Ignorant of plasma balls but wishing she’d had them in her childhood, her eyes widened, fingers occupied by forks and knives. “I could make it look more like that, I suppose,” she pondered, gaze going to the floor in thought. “Or maybe a little drawing of his starwhale.”
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
