Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Melita’s experiences with Ludo had always been in the charitable, mischievous aspects of the god – rags flowing, laughter pervading, trickery and silliness far more profound than any murderous proportions. The only other angle, conformed and bewildered, had been the removal of a memory – but then again, she hadn’t wanted it in the first place. So she smiled and nodded with the notion of it all being very Ludo-esque, dragging another proportion of driftwood from where it’d been stuck in the sand.
Winning against a skeletal being had been more about being out of range and not in Ronin’s blast area – but the honeybee didn’t say that. With the slightest wrinkle to her nose, she wiped her hands after dropping off the light log in the pile. “Ronin did a lot of damage,” by simply being who he was. “And I used my arrows.” And they still lost someone. “There was a merchant who’d wanted it gone – so I suppose we won in a way.” Just not how they’d wanted to – silly and merciless to begin with, and then downhearted in the next motion and movement.
She tried to dive away from that tendency to maroon herself in things that could’ve gone better, releasing a very loud, obnoxious snort at Phoebe’s question. Maybe the notions had never come together, but while she snagged at some sticks dried away in the dunes, the youth gave her answer. “Sunjata and Nate are my uncles.”
Winning against a skeletal being had been more about being out of range and not in Ronin’s blast area – but the honeybee didn’t say that. With the slightest wrinkle to her nose, she wiped her hands after dropping off the light log in the pile. “Ronin did a lot of damage,” by simply being who he was. “And I used my arrows.” And they still lost someone. “There was a merchant who’d wanted it gone – so I suppose we won in a way.” Just not how they’d wanted to – silly and merciless to begin with, and then downhearted in the next motion and movement.
She tried to dive away from that tendency to maroon herself in things that could’ve gone better, releasing a very loud, obnoxious snort at Phoebe’s question. Maybe the notions had never come together, but while she snagged at some sticks dried away in the dunes, the youth gave her answer. “Sunjata and Nate are my uncles.”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
