Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Melita had known her uncle far too long to fathom something wasn’t underfoot; heartless or not. She’d seen him charmed and tempted by the likes of Phoebe and Maea (both which she detested), then Nate, Ru segmenting in there somewhere on cycles and interims, and then others in between she’d likely forgotten or remained nameless. There was always the case to be made for the particular Frey’s side of employment he conjured and utilized, but in the same regards, she really wanted him content and happy for a change. Instead of dragged along and broken, used and castoff. “Dunno, probably have heard better,” she teased again, segmenting another stem and flower, weaving it amongst its brethren.
She arched her brow at him, watching for a moment as he grabbed some and began contorting something himself, and she hummed thereafter, taking careful orchestration of her measures. At his response though, she granted a cackle. “Yes, please do, but leave some bits out.” She didn’t want all the details of impending sex Frey demigod adventures.
As he handed the flower over, she gave a wink and added it to the front, before modeling it herself. “Figured Iskra would like this one.” She could make something matching for herself if this turned out decently.
She arched her brow at him, watching for a moment as he grabbed some and began contorting something himself, and she hummed thereafter, taking careful orchestration of her measures. At his response though, she granted a cackle. “Yes, please do, but leave some bits out.” She didn’t want all the details of impending sex Frey demigod adventures.
As he handed the flower over, she gave a wink and added it to the front, before modeling it herself. “Figured Iskra would like this one.” She could make something matching for herself if this turned out decently.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
