Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
“I’m all right,” she saluted, marking this down as another chaotic opportunity to either cause more bedlam, or concoct some serious damage. As it was, the birds seemed to be thinning out; much less Meat! and Eyes! strewn about and cackled upon. Sila fanned more of her flames, though remained cautious of the smoke still growing nearby, and while Fangorn clutched to the top of the Honeybee’s shoulders, she plucked at another notion of wild magic. If it was lightning again, perhaps she’d be ready this time.
Except, instead, it was a burst of mending and healing, heading straight for Liam – contorting and curling over any newfound wounds, or old, that needed assuaging. Not the type to ever be a soothing entity, she wrinkled her nose and sighed, already intending to employ another round.
Except, instead, it was a burst of mending and healing, heading straight for Liam – contorting and curling over any newfound wounds, or old, that needed assuaging. Not the type to ever be a soothing entity, she wrinkled her nose and sighed, already intending to employ another round.
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
