Baptized in bad times

Melita

Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down

Her eyes glanced at the movement from the nearby shore, and without missing a beat or taking a breath, fired off a shot of her own magical cannons to deploy at the beasts. Several went upwards in an array of confetti and devastation, before she cast her focus back upon Colt. While smug and feline-esque, the Honeybee certainly had no standing upon the situation as a whole; she wasn’t involved, just circling the drama as a shark might, either enticed to take a bite or merely maneuvering onward. She idled around it now, a cat batting at a new toy, ignorant of most of the forefront, but having seen enough of the aftermath. “Huh,” she shrugged, and had the Accepted not continued the conversation and inquiry, the demigod might have moved on – not granted enough of the levy to see if the dam would burst or not. “That tends to happen a lot around here.” The sharp ability for many predators to jump onto a portion of prey they deemed suitable; especially in a crowd. Painted into corners then shanked, stabbed, shivved for their good intentions.

Glancing downward at the soaked Colt, she huffed and rolled her eyes; not one to ever permit someone demanding to be let on her ship. She supposed it would look rather assholeish to leave her there if more of the ROUs survived and started swimming her way. With her luck lately, they’d probably pirate Colt’s ship too. Tossing the ladder down, she didn’t make it any easier for the woman, and merely waited until she climbed and clambered her way up, going through her things for said towels.

to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun