Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Beginning to work on another with different hues, this time oranges and reds, she snorted at his next response – now wholeheartedly convinced she needed to tease and taunt. Turnabout was fair play and all that. Or something. “Yes. A fine excuse,” she tutted behind her teeth, fingers angling over stems and petals once more, reeling them together far quicker, now that her grasp had gotten the hang of it again.
She watched his expression as he took the crown though, brow arching as he seemed to have a difficult time surmising the circumstances. Maybe that was a plausible thing too – Melita wasn’t renowned for gift giving or anything resembling niceties. “Very dashing,” went with her Cheshire grin – he’d probably have to check for himself if it was suitable or not. “Maybe necromancers really like ‘em,” she granted on an air of capricious shit-stirring, wrinkling her nose and winking.
She watched his expression as he took the crown though, brow arching as he seemed to have a difficult time surmising the circumstances. Maybe that was a plausible thing too – Melita wasn’t renowned for gift giving or anything resembling niceties. “Very dashing,” went with her Cheshire grin – he’d probably have to check for himself if it was suitable or not. “Maybe necromancers really like ‘em,” she granted on an air of capricious shit-stirring, wrinkling her nose and winking.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
