but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
They could weigh out their suspicions of one another in silence – almost as if they were circling, predator upon predator gauging and conspiring, despite Melita’s insistence on being splayed amongst the sand, toes dipped into the heat, the rush of yesteryears. She hummed something under her breath and Fangorn nestled his way down by her ankles, her fiery mind content to utilize the stranger for information at the very least. He seemed mutually agreeable, amicable, to do the same. The girl leaned forward, elbows on her knees, gazing out into the surf and swell, then back at the crabs, listening to the roam of words and phrases, names and titles, she’d never heard before: a treasure trove of vitality and sagacity. “What are they all like?” Greedy and grasping – she wanted to know them all.
As for their own spectacles at the Hollowed Grounds, Melita furrowed her brow, considering. “We have the occasional banshee, and rumors of things in the underground, beyond just ROUs.” She paused, gilded eyes focusing back to the stranger. “Then there’s the Undine in the Greatwood, and the Cat Sith.” And so many others she’d yet to know anything about – as ignorant as the rest, perhaps, but always striving to learn, to grow, to salvage what she could with her bare hands.
As for their own spectacles at the Hollowed Grounds, Melita furrowed her brow, considering. “We have the occasional banshee, and rumors of things in the underground, beyond just ROUs.” She paused, gilded eyes focusing back to the stranger. “Then there’s the Undine in the Greatwood, and the Cat Sith.” And so many others she’d yet to know anything about – as ignorant as the rest, perhaps, but always striving to learn, to grow, to salvage what she could with her bare hands.
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves
MELITA
