not everything is a poem

The Honeybee

I believe in holding grudges
I'll heal in hell

Kiada’s methods, while differing in ways, had the same result – swift death. She watched for a few more moments before eventually getting the smaller echo shark to shore, and snagging at her hunting knives to start the necessary process. All the other seemed to have scattered under the laden bounty of two of their own suddenly gone and vanquished, picked apart and no better for it.

Only when her inquiry drifted over the shoreline did Melita raise her head again, fire sparking upon an Ancient’s hands causing her eyes to narrow, but then nothing more, head tilting in regards. “I’ll probably use ‘em for a bunch of things.” Food, tools, bones. “Then barter the rest.” Not let anything to to waste – though it seemed Kiada ddin’t need to worry about that. Eyes widening, it didn’t really dawn on her until there was simply blood left in the water. “Did you eat that whole fuckin’ thing?”

Pay a little more attention to the healing power
of incandescent rage

Melita