Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
The altercation didn’t take any other turns except disbelief, wonder, and confusion; so along the same lines as before. Her eyes remained widened, jaw slackened, mouth agape like a surprised fish, only turning her head slightly in Milo’s direction. “I don’t know,” she whispered. Not an empanada, that was for sure, but the moment of humor dulled on her tongue, uncertain if she was in danger or not.
And then it was sniffing and inspecting her hand, and she was doused once more in water; drenched, caked, and everything else adorned upon her features and person. “Should we just keep going?” She inquired towards Milo – one brow lifting – but the rest of her gaze focused entirely on the creature. It didn’t seem to pose a threat, just curiosity, just inquiry, but knowing Melita, she’d undoubtedly do something to anger it by mere existence.
And then it was sniffing and inspecting her hand, and she was doused once more in water; drenched, caked, and everything else adorned upon her features and person. “Should we just keep going?” She inquired towards Milo – one brow lifting – but the rest of her gaze focused entirely on the creature. It didn’t seem to pose a threat, just curiosity, just inquiry, but knowing Melita, she’d undoubtedly do something to anger it by mere existence.
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
