Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Melita didn’t expect anyone else to be out here either – desolation seemed to be the sticking point in this wide mass of sand, dirt, wind, and not much else – but Sila, with keen eyes along the plains, saw Noah coming. So as the Forsaken approached from beyond the skeleton, the Honeybee didn’t look at all surprised, more curious than anything. Fangorn gave his own grumble and twist of his vines, looking like a disheveled swish of a greeting.
Stopping her warm-ups for half a moment to address the other demigod, she waved and jutted her jawline in return. “Hey.” There might’ve been more to be said – she couldn’t recall seeing him since planting seeds or the botched ‘aim magic at an orb’ thing. She kept it all within, however (how very mature of her), shrugging and rolling her shoulders. Then she returned to swinging the staff back and forth, practiced and rhythmical, wrist and arms loosening up as she rotated the armament in circles, muscles content, eager, and ready. “What brings you out here?”
Stopping her warm-ups for half a moment to address the other demigod, she waved and jutted her jawline in return. “Hey.” There might’ve been more to be said – she couldn’t recall seeing him since planting seeds or the botched ‘aim magic at an orb’ thing. She kept it all within, however (how very mature of her), shrugging and rolling her shoulders. Then she returned to swinging the staff back and forth, practiced and rhythmical, wrist and arms loosening up as she rotated the armament in circles, muscles content, eager, and ready. “What brings you out here?”
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
