MELITA
The youth thought to carry on with nothing more than the bizarre circumstances leering in the back of her mind, likely to be carried on the wind the day after, when she was distracted or deterred by something else. His call though gave her pause, a level of irritation spiraling over her form. It wasn’t the compliment (she’d never been called a pretty little thing in her life, and wasn’t sure how she felt how about it), but the you’ll be eaten alive before morning. For bigger monsters and demons had tried, and she’d lived to tell the tale. Maybe it was arrogance, a pummeling, drowning bellow deep in her soul, wanting to be seen as fierce, as ferocious, so nothing and no one would come after those things, those people, she loved. Maybe it was overconfidence, thought she’d proved herself time and time again that she was a creature not to be underestimated. “I’d like to see them try,” she called back, a wicked curve to the settled grin, a touch savage, a touch fierce.help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
