bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones
the rattle roar of broken bones
“Yeah. Don’t think you can?” More of a challenge than anything else – but no, she couldn’t quite picture him throwing a bunch of pins around and trying to catch them in some repetitive manner. Maybe to entertain the masses in a series of jester-like contortions, but that would’ve been Sunjata in a past life, pre-heart death. It’d been more in light of it all – to find something worth laughing about rather than sinking into another morose conjecture. They’d all had enough of those for multiple lifetimes, and she’d rather inspire some amusement rather than the ancient art of wallowing.
At his next response though, she arched a brow, snorted. “I should get that printed on a shirt.” It would have big, bold letters of ‘Melita, you’re right’ and a couple of random poses of her shooting off fireworks or cannons or arrows. “Good. And yes to the pottery.” And hopefully not all of it would be dicks, but she’d expect that. “Gotta find out what else is in there,” and she gestured to him at large, “Rather than what everyone else has always depended on. Wouldn’t it be amazing if they could do something for themselves for a change too?”
At his next response though, she arched a brow, snorted. “I should get that printed on a shirt.” It would have big, bold letters of ‘Melita, you’re right’ and a couple of random poses of her shooting off fireworks or cannons or arrows. “Good. And yes to the pottery.” And hopefully not all of it would be dicks, but she’d expect that. “Gotta find out what else is in there,” and she gestured to him at large, “Rather than what everyone else has always depended on. Wouldn’t it be amazing if they could do something for themselves for a change too?”
the honeybee
Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw
angry, wild, and raw
