a lion-hearted girl
Time to air frustrations out in…moderately healthier ways.She’d been neglecting her staff lately – not on purpose, but the longer range of her bow had been far more efficient in recent events, in tracking down monsters, in annihilating foes. After wandering down to the dock to find the Ark gone, out to sail somewhere and Jack likely vanished with it, another chance at discussion over ghost whale hunting had been terminated. She didn’t know what the hell was going on with either uncle. And she didn’t know what to do about anything lately; bound and lost in the confines of the unknown. She bristled at the containment.
So instead of wiling away in idle hours, where her brain would merely catch up and churn into the same quandaries again, the youth and her companion pulsed and beat towards the Slagveld – at least she could beat something into submission there – control, no matter how minor, held an impact in the justification of all her dilemmas.
Fangorn grumbled quietly on the edge of the boxing ring, settled in a spot, while Melita snagged at an available target. Though immobile, it’d do the trick for the moment, and she stood a ways off, hands wrapped around one of her favorite weapons. It sung beautifully in her hand, the dark enamel and lacquer pulsing, pervading, vibrant with the nuance of simply being used. Here, she could imagine the effigy as a ghost whale, pummeled into nothingness. An enemy, an adversary – maybe Kiada, newly reborn as an Ascended. Anything that dared to oppose or string her along.
And with one mighty leap, she swung.
ready for a fight
MELITA
