Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
The cry of the dragon was enough to have her squinting into the horizon – figuring that would just be right as rain – to have endured all of this and then found by a god damned ivory motherfucker. But instead, she recognized the distinction of her uncle against the Tundra lines, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. How on earth was he here? How did he know?
Before she could get much further with either Zavien, Sascha, or herself, the Flood was there – and she could feel herself shaking, even in the midst of so many layers. “I’m okay,” she nodded, swallowing down everything else. “It never touched me.” Because she’d had the power to blend into nothing and well –
“He isn’t though,” she mentioned off-handedly, the shock and rage and bitterness all beginning to twist together into something resembling audacity melded into fear and regret. “How - how did you know I was here?" Followed quickly by another short breath, masking everything. "Can you help me take them back?”
Before she could get much further with either Zavien, Sascha, or herself, the Flood was there – and she could feel herself shaking, even in the midst of so many layers. “I’m okay,” she nodded, swallowing down everything else. “It never touched me.” Because she’d had the power to blend into nothing and well –
“He isn’t though,” she mentioned off-handedly, the shock and rage and bitterness all beginning to twist together into something resembling audacity melded into fear and regret. “How - how did you know I was here?" Followed quickly by another short breath, masking everything. "Can you help me take them back?”
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
