daughters made claw first
Melita quirked a brow at the echo, and the statement thereafter. She hadn’t figured the girl for a threat. She thought very little of such things nowadays – maybe out of arrogance, maybe out of spite, but the Honeybee thought of herself as capable of diminishing most perils and hazards headed her way. Lest they be something from her weaker days, and even then, she was going to ensure that particular debt was paid in full.
Her eyes went to the other one’s offerings – not something paid towards Ludo especially, but likely Mort. Considering that, especially in the realms of death, Melita remained strangely quiet, eyes straying away as the stranger tended to her prayers. Not prying, not insinuating, not touching upon things like dead parents – her own were adrift in other worlds, or simply hadn’t wanted her in the first place.
So her stare went to Fangorn, bustling around her feet, and Sila, adrift and hovering, waiting for something else. The hymns and words must not have taken long, because then there were some brief intervals of introductions, but the name offered wasn’t something she recognized. “Ah. I’m Melita. It’s fine.” The younger individual seemed on the brink of tears or something, and the Honeybee wasn’t particularly good at navigating around those emotions. She rarely touched them herself – anger was her favorite, rather than heartache. Rage felt more protective; a hazardous shield. "You...uh, okay?"
Her eyes went to the other one’s offerings – not something paid towards Ludo especially, but likely Mort. Considering that, especially in the realms of death, Melita remained strangely quiet, eyes straying away as the stranger tended to her prayers. Not prying, not insinuating, not touching upon things like dead parents – her own were adrift in other worlds, or simply hadn’t wanted her in the first place.
So her stare went to Fangorn, bustling around her feet, and Sila, adrift and hovering, waiting for something else. The hymns and words must not have taken long, because then there were some brief intervals of introductions, but the name offered wasn’t something she recognized. “Ah. I’m Melita. It’s fine.” The younger individual seemed on the brink of tears or something, and the Honeybee wasn’t particularly good at navigating around those emotions. She rarely touched them herself – anger was her favorite, rather than heartache. Rage felt more protective; a hazardous shield. "You...uh, okay?"
Melita
tiger roar and wolf bad
