mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth
The joint effort to say she shouldn’t be murdering and maiming earned them both another scoff, greatly offended on her own behalf. “I mean, I could still do it over and over again,” she winked; thinking of turning enemies and adversaries into no more than bits of dust and decay. What could’ve been of fuckers like Loren or even Maea – wrath earned from the way they bludgeoned her own. Finishing off her pina colada, she deigned to snag more food in the interim, circling about by the refreshments and further honeyed, glazed items, refilling her plate as they talked about Jack and his performance anxiety. This earned a laugh from her, pleasant and buzzing, high and lofty, shaking her head. “He’d never admit that.” News of Iskra’s motions towards daemons and cockatrices earned another arch of her brow as her head swung in his direction – mind already concocting several more adventures on the horizon then; smile turning wicked as she flashed it toward him.
Settling back down into her seat though, she snorted at the implications of the underwear and her own features. “I was Friday,” as if this was some grand accomplishment, hand on her chest in a proud disposition as she raised her chin in a haughty manner; but then, glancing his way and seeing his own grin beginning to unravel, she had a sneaking suspicion this would be backfiring on her. Hoping not to be noticed by her uncle, she pinned a narrowed gaze on Iskra, mostly a warning – dropped immediately though, by her uncle’s news.
Head swinging and mouth agape again, her jaw had slackened to a humorous degree, eyes widening. “What? I just saw him a little while ago, he didn’t say shit-,” and then her mind was whirling. She’d only heard of demigods, well, dying and no longer being in service, or changing heralds, like Remi and Ronin; circumstances of no longer being in such a scope had never once crossed her mind. “Can...wait, can demigods retire? Or like…well, what happened?”
Settling back down into her seat though, she snorted at the implications of the underwear and her own features. “I was Friday,” as if this was some grand accomplishment, hand on her chest in a proud disposition as she raised her chin in a haughty manner; but then, glancing his way and seeing his own grin beginning to unravel, she had a sneaking suspicion this would be backfiring on her. Hoping not to be noticed by her uncle, she pinned a narrowed gaze on Iskra, mostly a warning – dropped immediately though, by her uncle’s news.
Head swinging and mouth agape again, her jaw had slackened to a humorous degree, eyes widening. “What? I just saw him a little while ago, he didn’t say shit-,” and then her mind was whirling. She’d only heard of demigods, well, dying and no longer being in service, or changing heralds, like Remi and Ronin; circumstances of no longer being in such a scope had never once crossed her mind. “Can...wait, can demigods retire? Or like…well, what happened?”
Melita
of both beauty and battle cries
