MELITA
She sat down too, another impish smile adorned on her lips as he proclaimed her as good, pride embedded and immersed in the thick of its mischief. The fatigue wore in then, and she lifted the hem of her shirt to inspect burgeoning bruises, frowning only slightly at the deepening hues, before placing the ends back down; sighing, stretching, until the kinks seemed to work out. She could see to them later; after she’d run into the rest of the family, seen what hell manifested in those familiar walls.Melita took his offered flask again though, content to remain still for a moment, the restless eaves gone and replaced with a dull ache. She didn’t expect the compliment again, raising her brows, taking a long swallow off the container, and passing it back. “Many people have taught me.” The list grew ever longer – and she took something from all of the encounters, applied it to her benefits, to her stances, to her forms, to her impulsivity, until it became more than just a want and an ambition; but a stoked fire, keen and overwhelming. “And I practice a lot.” Because she wanted to be better, the best, so no one would ever touch her, or someone she loved again. “Where did you learn?”
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
