Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Her eyes narrowed again, perhaps more speculative than in the past; for a being resolutely firing on merely poor impulse control, the statement left her inclined to silence. A momentary fixture, while her mind puttered through the mess of the hour and the day. “We did have some warnings,” she began again, recalling the way Safrin’s modicums had spread – and how it hadn’t been enough regardless. “But we still don’t know what we’re truly facing…,” they could speculate until the end of days, and probably still don’t have the grandest guess. “Are you doing anything in King’s End?” Her eyes eventually lifted back to him, watching and studying, before arching a singular brow as he placed the other objects along.
Torchline was striving to safeguard against the cretins – but to what measure it would help or hinder, she couldn’t quite say. She nearly frowned at his concern thereafter, used to shrugging any anomalies or ailments off her shoulders with a vindictive and vehement ease. “I’m all right,” was a reassurance regardless; she hadn’t been maimed or marred in this instance.
Torchline was striving to safeguard against the cretins – but to what measure it would help or hinder, she couldn’t quite say. She nearly frowned at his concern thereafter, used to shrugging any anomalies or ailments off her shoulders with a vindictive and vehement ease. “I’m all right,” was a reassurance regardless; she hadn’t been maimed or marred in this instance.
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
