Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Perhaps it was a rare thing for her thoughts to be churning, revolving, without intonations or characteristics of bitterness; but the youth had truly been thinking. There might’ve been some frustration cast into their wares, and simply due to the fact that she’d yet to surmise an easy solution for their dilemma at sea. She’d already heard other stories and tales of encounters and run-ins with the creatures, and twice now had seen it for herself – a menacing foe and adversary within the ocean.
She sought out the shrine, the rock, wading into the undulations of salt and brine with her dress knotted at the end, Fangorn along her shoulder, and the bag of offerings nestled in her grasp. It’d become habitual and routine, for her to wander into its midst, for her hands to grasp hold of the rock and stone, for her to try and find some sense, some way of solving a dilemma with her favored herald’s assistance. It could've been foul luck with arrows or cannons, but the Ark couldn’t manage, maintain, or survive out there in the midst of so many other fathoms, without a semblance of a solution.
So she reached into her satchel, retrieving several Ludo dolls she’d fashioned from the latest event, each with their own distinguishing height and rags, and placed them along the statue’s legs. While the gourd grumbled, the honeybee bowed her head, hastening a whisper on the breeze. “Ludo, I was wondering if you could help me find a way to overcome the ghost whales.” Maybe, maybe not – and while this wasn’t a last resort, it might yield a method they’d yet to attempt.
She sought out the shrine, the rock, wading into the undulations of salt and brine with her dress knotted at the end, Fangorn along her shoulder, and the bag of offerings nestled in her grasp. It’d become habitual and routine, for her to wander into its midst, for her hands to grasp hold of the rock and stone, for her to try and find some sense, some way of solving a dilemma with her favored herald’s assistance. It could've been foul luck with arrows or cannons, but the Ark couldn’t manage, maintain, or survive out there in the midst of so many other fathoms, without a semblance of a solution.
So she reached into her satchel, retrieving several Ludo dolls she’d fashioned from the latest event, each with their own distinguishing height and rags, and placed them along the statue’s legs. While the gourd grumbled, the honeybee bowed her head, hastening a whisper on the breeze. “Ludo, I was wondering if you could help me find a way to overcome the ghost whales.” Maybe, maybe not – and while this wasn’t a last resort, it might yield a method they’d yet to attempt.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
