mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth
The first time Iskra had started yelling, for no apparent reason except the obvious, Melita had been amused. The second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. times, Melita was still amused. Her wry laughter beneath the scarf tucked against her mouth buoyed out regardless, through fabric and chicanery, until a cluster of birds were disturbed and flew outwards. “I don’t know. Very charming,” she added, then giggled again for the lie. “Probably won’t last forever.”
She didn’t even flinch at the litany of shouted inquiries, blinking and snorting while she twirled the ax around again. “Nah. I usually go for my staff, bow, and then daggers. But I have plenty of them on me.” All snuck and snug along her legs and thighs and wherever else she could fit them.
At least the instruction was easy to take and hear, and she took in the upcoming vehemence with regular aplomb; always an eager student when it came to new forms of violence. Her gaze swept over his movements and muscles, more than once (thank you very much for the free show), before the weapon turned, swiveled, and fell into the nearby timber with an audible echo. She offered a clap of her mitten-ed hands for the end result.
Figuring he ought to really worry about any axes flung nearby, Melita sauntered up, narrowing her eyes and adjusting her grip. Mimicking his own stance, she pulled her arm back above her head, elbow raised, and shot the damn thing. There was a lot of power behind it, and the armament went whipping through – straight into a nearby bush. Unbothered, as she sauntered off to retrieve it, she vaulted her next inquiry. “Hm. How do you adjust for accuracy though?”
She didn’t even flinch at the litany of shouted inquiries, blinking and snorting while she twirled the ax around again. “Nah. I usually go for my staff, bow, and then daggers. But I have plenty of them on me.” All snuck and snug along her legs and thighs and wherever else she could fit them.
At least the instruction was easy to take and hear, and she took in the upcoming vehemence with regular aplomb; always an eager student when it came to new forms of violence. Her gaze swept over his movements and muscles, more than once (thank you very much for the free show), before the weapon turned, swiveled, and fell into the nearby timber with an audible echo. She offered a clap of her mitten-ed hands for the end result.
Figuring he ought to really worry about any axes flung nearby, Melita sauntered up, narrowing her eyes and adjusting her grip. Mimicking his own stance, she pulled her arm back above her head, elbow raised, and shot the damn thing. There was a lot of power behind it, and the armament went whipping through – straight into a nearby bush. Unbothered, as she sauntered off to retrieve it, she vaulted her next inquiry. “Hm. How do you adjust for accuracy though?”
Melita
of both beauty and battle cries
