mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth
Melita took to silence in the moments after, grabbing more food, letting the thoughts mull through her mind like sifting water and impulsive fire. She didn’t even know where to direct the impulse and inclination of anger; as if it were drawn right to the very root and heart of the matter. It’d been far easier to believe Ru had wandered off – quietly staking claims in new discoveries and enigmatic plunges – than the truth of the forbearance. Dragons and death and ruined pieces of puzzles twisted and turned; the Valkyrie hadn’t meant to die, and likely hadn’t intended to scorn the emotional organ. Sunjata hadn’t known any of it at all. So what was there to do other than repair what had been lost – at least, starting from the broken barbs. She couldn’t be certain on salvaging anything else.
Her gaze roamed back to Iskra, who seemed to be taking the rest of this quite well, given initial reactions. Maybe it was a relief too, that these semblances hadn’t scarred or scared him off already. This family in particular held a certain level of dramatics that the Honeybee often felt outside of; looking through glass at all the distorted images. Now she was surveying it again close at hand, biting down a well of comments. But she wanted to hear Sunjata’s response, what it meant to have it just…not there at all.
She gave a sigh though, feeling herself beginning to curl inward, drawing her legs into the chair with her so she could rest her elbow across her knees, peek over the rim of the hinges so she could watch them both. Not the emotional expert by any means, she veered towards the upcoming challenges, the building blocks either due to be renewed, or left awry. “Is there something we can…do?” she finally offered, uncertain and unsure.
Her gaze widened and her cheeks flushed a little at her uncle’s inquiry directed back at them; noting Iskra said nothing, which left her to fill in the nuances. Puffing out her cheeks and pretending to be nibbling at another portion of glazed and honeyed fruit, she downed the rest of her drink and worked up the courage. “Things are good,” winking at Iskra, granting him a grin, trying to restore order and normalcy by instigating her latest bouts of impending terror. Which still seemed light in comparison to everything they’d just heard; but gods she wasn’t certain she could take much else. She presumed portions were going well on their end; he hadn't said otherwise. “I’m working on some more cannon stuff!” at which she gestured with hand motions to make it appear as if something was being blown up. “And then there was the recent banshee fight, of course.”
Her gaze roamed back to Iskra, who seemed to be taking the rest of this quite well, given initial reactions. Maybe it was a relief too, that these semblances hadn’t scarred or scared him off already. This family in particular held a certain level of dramatics that the Honeybee often felt outside of; looking through glass at all the distorted images. Now she was surveying it again close at hand, biting down a well of comments. But she wanted to hear Sunjata’s response, what it meant to have it just…not there at all.
She gave a sigh though, feeling herself beginning to curl inward, drawing her legs into the chair with her so she could rest her elbow across her knees, peek over the rim of the hinges so she could watch them both. Not the emotional expert by any means, she veered towards the upcoming challenges, the building blocks either due to be renewed, or left awry. “Is there something we can…do?” she finally offered, uncertain and unsure.
Her gaze widened and her cheeks flushed a little at her uncle’s inquiry directed back at them; noting Iskra said nothing, which left her to fill in the nuances. Puffing out her cheeks and pretending to be nibbling at another portion of glazed and honeyed fruit, she downed the rest of her drink and worked up the courage. “Things are good,” winking at Iskra, granting him a grin, trying to restore order and normalcy by instigating her latest bouts of impending terror. Which still seemed light in comparison to everything they’d just heard; but gods she wasn’t certain she could take much else. She presumed portions were going well on their end; he hadn't said otherwise. “I’m working on some more cannon stuff!” at which she gestured with hand motions to make it appear as if something was being blown up. “And then there was the recent banshee fight, of course.”
Melita
of both beauty and battle cries
