Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
There had never been any pomp and circumstance with the youth. Guided along by Haai, she was a smoldering, simmering storm, gliding along upon stairs two at a time, and then bursting through the door of this particular room – which she didn’t remember helping. Her eyes wandered over it for a second, and then shrugged it off, pinpointing the gilded, seditious gaze straight at her uncle.
She ignored the amiability too, uncertain what to do with the gentler tones, and not in the mood for anything soft, dulcet, or calming. The honeybee didn’t take a seat either, choosing instead to pace along the floor, Fangorn long since giving up on the chase and bumbling around by the entrance to the office. She didn’t wring her hands though, not like some shaking, crumbling maiden or damsel, instead, her fist tightened, clenching and unclenching, while the grasp in her other hand honed around her staff, lifting it back up and down with her as she thundered around. “There was a weird guy down by the docks asking questions about the Ark.” Pausing, realizing this probably didn’t describe anything well, she continued. "Said he was researching what was going on with storms and stuff. I asked, but he didn’t have any connections yet between everything else.”
Rambling, mind circulating over the occurrences, weapon gliding over the floor as she walked back and forth. “Said his name was…Finn Rosen…Rosencramps? No.” A shake of her head, wild locks flying and flaring, ceasing for a moment to recall the name. “Rosencrantz.”
She ignored the amiability too, uncertain what to do with the gentler tones, and not in the mood for anything soft, dulcet, or calming. The honeybee didn’t take a seat either, choosing instead to pace along the floor, Fangorn long since giving up on the chase and bumbling around by the entrance to the office. She didn’t wring her hands though, not like some shaking, crumbling maiden or damsel, instead, her fist tightened, clenching and unclenching, while the grasp in her other hand honed around her staff, lifting it back up and down with her as she thundered around. “There was a weird guy down by the docks asking questions about the Ark.” Pausing, realizing this probably didn’t describe anything well, she continued. "Said he was researching what was going on with storms and stuff. I asked, but he didn’t have any connections yet between everything else.”
Rambling, mind circulating over the occurrences, weapon gliding over the floor as she walked back and forth. “Said his name was…Finn Rosen…Rosencramps? No.” A shake of her head, wild locks flying and flaring, ceasing for a moment to recall the name. “Rosencrantz.”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
