but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
There was a slow realization as the rope loosened, a raucous “Fuck,” emitted from her mouth, before she went careening across the wooden deck. Fangorn might’ve been screeching, extending his vines out to her, but she’d had no chance of snagging or catching them, cursing further under her breath as she tucked herself into a ball and braced for impact. The crates ensured she didn’t go overboard, but as her shins met them, a callous wake of anguish tore up the limbs, damned to be heavily bruised. She unfolded herself in a sedate crawl, ignoring any blood that might have trickled down broken skin, attempting to rise and grab hold of anything sturdy, steady.
Shaking her head, attempting to clear out the pain shooting along, Fangorn had already arrived at her side, grumbling, and the others seemed to be doing far better than her. Jack’s shouts bounded and echoed against her cranium, something like a dull roar over the storm; and while she had no magic, she could probably help steer.
The honeybee youth dragged herself and her companion towards the helm, saying nothing at all, but granting a nod, striving for assistance with strength, fortitude, and might.
--
Melita gets all bruised/cut up and heads to help Jack steer.
Shaking her head, attempting to clear out the pain shooting along, Fangorn had already arrived at her side, grumbling, and the others seemed to be doing far better than her. Jack’s shouts bounded and echoed against her cranium, something like a dull roar over the storm; and while she had no magic, she could probably help steer.
The honeybee youth dragged herself and her companion towards the helm, saying nothing at all, but granting a nod, striving for assistance with strength, fortitude, and might.
--
Melita gets all bruised/cut up and heads to help Jack steer.
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves
MELITA
