you must burn brighter than ever
Her eyes went towards the person Astaroth pointed out – imagining, before reality hit, that it might be someone regal and refined, or caustic and ridiculous. When her gaze landed upon the frail and infirm old man, her face fell flat, the deadpan expression sent back to the butcher. “Really? This’ll be funny only for you,” she scoffed, but readily taking up the mantle and the challenge.
Not wanting to be wholly recognized, she drew her hood up over her head, and then grabbed hold of her staff, using it some sort of walking stick as she hobbled over to the portion of the market square. She’d strike a rather deranged image; a much younger individual with a bent back, one hand rubbing down the length of her spine as if injured, weak, and decrepit. Even leaning heavily upon the weapon, making loud noises as she stalked past, then slowed down, a number of passersby. “Anyone want to help me cross the road?” she croaked, trying to see if she could attention from those choosing not to gawk.
Not wanting to be wholly recognized, she drew her hood up over her head, and then grabbed hold of her staff, using it some sort of walking stick as she hobbled over to the portion of the market square. She’d strike a rather deranged image; a much younger individual with a bent back, one hand rubbing down the length of her spine as if injured, weak, and decrepit. Even leaning heavily upon the weapon, making loud noises as she stalked past, then slowed down, a number of passersby. “Anyone want to help me cross the road?” she croaked, trying to see if she could attention from those choosing not to gawk.
Melita
