MELITA
Melita kicked at a random stone, uncertain how to answer the question. “I feel stronger than before, but also…like, not? I’m not sure that makes sense.” It was difficult to describe the transformation from on top of the world, to absolutely humbled and dead, and back to muster and fortitude. “I don’t think I can get hit quite as hard anymore and still get back up, y’know.” Her nose wrinkled at that – because she wouldn’t readily admit the notions to many others. “I won’t be able to be with the big kids for a bit,” and she shrugged, not willing to peel back the layers and see how much it bothered her. Sausage fests aside, the Honeybee cackled. “Wait – what guild are you running?” Maybe she’d had her head in the sand, metaphorically and literally and figuratively. She’d be much more entertained by Flora’s aspect of associations and coalitions rather than the regiments of rigid organizations.
But then there were other aspects – like being a distracting and chaotic nuisance – to deal with. She waited, somewhat dutifully, until Flora seemed like she was ready, before casting her first attempts at deterrence and mayhem.
Which turned out to be wonderful and grand, in Melita’s opinion, as a shocking bolt of lightning touched down some thirty feet away, hitting a rather unfortunate tree.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
