your dreams are all full of war
you are from another time
What started out as judgement and concern was now contorting into her own traumatic umbrage. Years before, she wouldn’t have cared either; dancing about in just as much foolishness and triumph as this stranger, but now experience had scalded, marred, wounded, and killed; down to the very last distinction of her soul. Nor did she give a single shit about anyone’s sense of entitlement. Not children of gods, not her own flesh and blood, not whatever friends she had remaining out there in the world. She didn’t she owe this person anything. you are from another time
Her own emotions waged, flared to something she’d never seen before – flames shooting out around her, surrounding and pervading. A warning sign, perhaps. “Have to be something wrong to go flailing about in a lightning storm, after you've seen that tree get electrocuted. But that’s fine. All on you if you want to die out there.“ Because Melita wouldn’t be – not again, not like that. Her salvaged rescue attempts were now bristling and torching; the warnings extended and quite enough, in her opinion. “Enjoy yourself.” She flashed her hand in a dismissive layer; clutching at Fangorn tighter, snagging at Sila to land on her shoulder, and beginning to walk back towards the inn.
--
Magic: I'm Fine, I'm Cool (passive): Fire flares around her when experiencing heightened emotions
Type: Dark | Rank: Basic
salvation doesn't look like light
So what remains?
So what remains?
Melita
