mama bore a girl with a gun for a mouth
“Exactly~,” she hummed and sing-songed, snapping her fingers and letting them roam freely against the water. She’d heard Colt’s end of things, and could imagine the truth lingered somewhere in the middle on all sides, but to be able to see it for herself? And decipher how it’d all really gone down, through thick and thin and dramatic components? Who wouldn’t want to sit in? “I think I’d use it every chance I got. Unless it was going to be y’know, super boring or something.” But she shrugged, leaving the matter up to the newly forged demigod anyway.
She gave a light smile afterwards though, grateful Flora didn’t tread any further on the lines Melita had yet to delve into – not much farther than initial runs and rampages anyway. She’d yet to have her vengeance. She still jumped at lightning. But she’d grown more powerful and potent from that day onward, which she hoped signified something about power and prowess, about how they could bend themselves back together again. That death, while rampant in Caido, wasn’t always such a permanent fixture.
But that was because of Ronin – though she’d made sure his efforts hadn’t been in vain.
As for Rescue, she tilted her head, then flicked a bounty of water at the closest ningo too, watching as they all cooed to one another and barely took flight, shaking the droplets off with a brush and rush of feathers. “I don’t. I know a bunch of others do though.” Lifting her eyes in thought, she gave a deeper breath, longer and lower. “People would want me to help them slay shit, then summon a demigod, and then they would summon another one…and pretty soon I’d wonder why they’d even bothered asking me to come.” She shrugged, shimmying the bother off her shoulders; despite it sticking like a claw or a thorn deep into her sides. “Maybe one day though. When I’m over it,” and she winked, still uncertain. Her own insecurities had made a mess and nest of those notions too.
She gave a light smile afterwards though, grateful Flora didn’t tread any further on the lines Melita had yet to delve into – not much farther than initial runs and rampages anyway. She’d yet to have her vengeance. She still jumped at lightning. But she’d grown more powerful and potent from that day onward, which she hoped signified something about power and prowess, about how they could bend themselves back together again. That death, while rampant in Caido, wasn’t always such a permanent fixture.
But that was because of Ronin – though she’d made sure his efforts hadn’t been in vain.
As for Rescue, she tilted her head, then flicked a bounty of water at the closest ningo too, watching as they all cooed to one another and barely took flight, shaking the droplets off with a brush and rush of feathers. “I don’t. I know a bunch of others do though.” Lifting her eyes in thought, she gave a deeper breath, longer and lower. “People would want me to help them slay shit, then summon a demigod, and then they would summon another one…and pretty soon I’d wonder why they’d even bothered asking me to come.” She shrugged, shimmying the bother off her shoulders; despite it sticking like a claw or a thorn deep into her sides. “Maybe one day though. When I’m over it,” and she winked, still uncertain. Her own insecurities had made a mess and nest of those notions too.
Melita
of both beauty and battle cries
