mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth
A little shit by even the smallest of layers and gestures, his openness to willingly clean her ship, even amidst the trickery and deceit, warmed the vessels of her heart. “Mm. I could help, I suppose,” she waved with one of her free hand off into the distance, one of her bare feet intentionally poking at his calf. “Since it doesn’t quite meet your high standards.”
Wrapping her palms around the warm mug again, she glanced back into the horde of the sea, watching as the tide rolled in and Sila savored the moments. Favorite views changed, for she was as mercurial as the rest of Caido’s distinctive efforts to alter and change as days went by – but her minds rolled, sinking into the past and present. “I’ve got all kinds,” she started at first, head tilting, voice sincere rather than dipping into its usual flare for the dramatic or pettiness. “Flying over Aumakua,” where her house was tucked within the cliffside, over the lighthouse and amidst the stark outreach of capricious, salty sea winds. “When we used to take the boats out along the harbor at sunset,” younger, not so full of regret yet - more memories tucked into her chest, secretive, furtive, until now, figuring he could have them again. “Crimson Cataract in the Greatwood,” where the fire-red hues unfurled but didn’t chisel into blood. “Some parts of Halo are pretty,” came along an admittance with a wrinkle to her nose. “What about you?”
Wrapping her palms around the warm mug again, she glanced back into the horde of the sea, watching as the tide rolled in and Sila savored the moments. Favorite views changed, for she was as mercurial as the rest of Caido’s distinctive efforts to alter and change as days went by – but her minds rolled, sinking into the past and present. “I’ve got all kinds,” she started at first, head tilting, voice sincere rather than dipping into its usual flare for the dramatic or pettiness. “Flying over Aumakua,” where her house was tucked within the cliffside, over the lighthouse and amidst the stark outreach of capricious, salty sea winds. “When we used to take the boats out along the harbor at sunset,” younger, not so full of regret yet - more memories tucked into her chest, secretive, furtive, until now, figuring he could have them again. “Crimson Cataract in the Greatwood,” where the fire-red hues unfurled but didn’t chisel into blood. “Some parts of Halo are pretty,” came along an admittance with a wrinkle to her nose. “What about you?”
Melita
of both beauty and battle cries
