Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Wielding her staff in a sudden maelstrom, due to a portion of the maneuvering grime nearing her feet, she beat it into submission with nothing more than the swift mannerism. It burst at the seams and flickered in all directions, then she happily hummed, vigilant for her favored violence. She didn’t give the houses much of a glance to be honest, quite content with her own and the random back and forth she and Iskra had been making depending on the season – all whim and caprice. “Ohhhh the Grounds, gotcha.” She wrinkled her nose, but only because of the circumstances long, long ago – difficult to ever really set back into place, even if Danta and his crew had taken over, changed it into something else.
Made sense, given she was Ancient. Maybe there were limitations the Honeybee had never thought of or considered; more focused on the opportunities presented to her in bedlam and chaos. Pondering, she eventually turned her head over her shoulder, glancing at the girl. “So what brought you over here then?”
Made sense, given she was Ancient. Maybe there were limitations the Honeybee had never thought of or considered; more focused on the opportunities presented to her in bedlam and chaos. Pondering, she eventually turned her head over her shoulder, glancing at the girl. “So what brought you over here then?”
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
