Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Melita hadn’t thought of the basic geography portions that might be taking shape, and her brows furrowed, pondering over how the rest of the coastlines were faring. “Looks like shit, to be honest,” she shrugged. “Took some portions of the memory mud stuff out, but there’s plenty left.” Hauling out the rest of her filled jogs, she followed Isla’s lead, plopping them down so she could tilt her head, study the healer’s work.
Admiring the scorch magic (and perhaps wondering if she could just boop the Ancient so she could use it too), she listened instead. Not a mender by any standard of operations, she’d be the first to admit working at a clinic would probably send her over the deep end, but she could appreciate the woman’s abilities and aptitude just the same. “That’s good. I think it’s been so long since anything’s been settled, it feels weird.” She shrugged, then rocked back on her heels, figuring Isla would comprehend the notions. “Do you want more water?”
Admiring the scorch magic (and perhaps wondering if she could just boop the Ancient so she could use it too), she listened instead. Not a mender by any standard of operations, she’d be the first to admit working at a clinic would probably send her over the deep end, but she could appreciate the woman’s abilities and aptitude just the same. “That’s good. I think it’s been so long since anything’s been settled, it feels weird.” She shrugged, then rocked back on her heels, figuring Isla would comprehend the notions. “Do you want more water?”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
