Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Prying the cloud wrym’s claws apart to snag at the golden locket, stolen from her in a vague-I’m-distracted-by-other-shiny-things way, she hissed at the cretin, then watched it fly off with the rest of its asshat friends. Her only victorious pose was one of raising her middle finger to the sky, and the creatures, before turning her head back to the scene – rubber ducks and Zavien.
She had been paying attention, of course, but her focus had been almost entirely on the wyrms, rather than asking too many questions. “Yeah, nice to see you.” She paused, watching the ducks coast on the waves. “Feel free to take any of those,” especially since his dragon seemed to like them. “Were you washing your sword or something?” Not a euphemism or innuendo; but she hadn’t seen anyone doing that out along the coast before. Maybe it was a Stormbreaker thing.
She had been paying attention, of course, but her focus had been almost entirely on the wyrms, rather than asking too many questions. “Yeah, nice to see you.” She paused, watching the ducks coast on the waves. “Feel free to take any of those,” especially since his dragon seemed to like them. “Were you washing your sword or something?” Not a euphemism or innuendo; but she hadn’t seen anyone doing that out along the coast before. Maybe it was a Stormbreaker thing.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
