mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth
Her brow arched at his comment, but she said nothing more, giving a wry grin indicating nothing and everything simultaneously. “Cool.” With that committed in her mind, she waited for the obvious answer – she wasn’t really surprised Halo didn’t exactly put out all the stops during LongNight. Maybe they all just got drunk at their own houses, rather than out in the open, amidst the constant snowfall. Eh. Food for thought for later. She’d keep the other tidbit in mind though, for future chaos and surprises.
Besides, she was occupied by the opportunity of trickery before her, as he seemed to summon up the courage, picking the peppermint bark. She smiled, devious and full of duplicity, while humming and making her selection, parsing her way through until she snagged at the butterbeer. Pouring the flavored powder into the cup, she then grabbed at the thermos, exemplifying all sorts of grandiose pretenses. “All right, here it goes,” and she tipped it over, permitting the (perfectly normal) water to flow through into hers, scorching and churning its way to the bottom, letting the aroma burst forth, vivid plumes wafting upwards even in the warmth of Torchline.
Then she did the same to his – letting it stir on its own as the hot liquid rushed within. “Let me know what you think,” as she blew on hers, thinking that would help to cool it off, before going to take a sip. “Gods, a cleaning would be lovely,” eyeballing the skyship and its rigging, granting another daring smile because she already knew the end result. “Even the cannons?”
Besides, she was occupied by the opportunity of trickery before her, as he seemed to summon up the courage, picking the peppermint bark. She smiled, devious and full of duplicity, while humming and making her selection, parsing her way through until she snagged at the butterbeer. Pouring the flavored powder into the cup, she then grabbed at the thermos, exemplifying all sorts of grandiose pretenses. “All right, here it goes,” and she tipped it over, permitting the (perfectly normal) water to flow through into hers, scorching and churning its way to the bottom, letting the aroma burst forth, vivid plumes wafting upwards even in the warmth of Torchline.
Then she did the same to his – letting it stir on its own as the hot liquid rushed within. “Let me know what you think,” as she blew on hers, thinking that would help to cool it off, before going to take a sip. “Gods, a cleaning would be lovely,” eyeballing the skyship and its rigging, granting another daring smile because she already knew the end result. “Even the cannons?”
Melita
of both beauty and battle cries
