melita
Melita had very few that she cared to keep content in her general expanse – Iskra being one of them – and the rest could either be thwarted by her antics or easily forgotten. So she kept her amusements high and her own satisfaction humming, striving to ensure both of them were wholly occupied and entertained; easier to do with him than most.
Her existence being a distraction wasn’t lost on her, she’d use that as a weapon later, and she couldn’t help the delighted cackle erupting from her lungs as soon as the cheesecake remains contacted his face. The humorous, and slow, display of it crawling down his cheek instigated another rallying cry of laughter, and then she snagged at her spoon, intending to find another portion she could utilize in another display of dessert armaments.
Which, unfortunately, didn’t grant her much time for dodging his incoming retaliation. Lifting her head up, she saw him coming, and desperately flung the small, meager amount of berries left in order to slow him down. Then she flung herself across the quilt, thinking she could crawl her way off the rocks and to victory. It wouldn’t be enough though, and she squealed and shrieked as his smeared cheek left a smudge on hers; spread and smothered. “Nooooo,” echoed, loudly, before she reached up and flicked some of it off, from her fingers, and to his forehead. “It’s all yours!”
salvation doesn't look like light
