Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Melita had actually never thought of weaponizing Fangorn – but the notions suddenly connecting everything together made the sentiments very appealing. Perhaps she could train him how to wield more than just his fangs? She laughed out loud at Locke’s declaration, shaking her head, a layer of assurance rippling through even as her dagger found shirt and skin. “He’s just getting it for me,” though there was another devilish, demonic grin to follow.
This time she held her knife steady and certain as he swung for her side. It didn’t go catapulting off into the brightly hued water. It didn’t go lancing along. Instead, it caught against her own armament, and she snickered as it glinted, and she aimed to repel it away from her with a mighty shove – strong, steady, assured.
And if that worked, why she’d simply strive to aim for his chest on the rebound.
This time she held her knife steady and certain as he swung for her side. It didn’t go catapulting off into the brightly hued water. It didn’t go lancing along. Instead, it caught against her own armament, and she snickered as it glinted, and she aimed to repel it away from her with a mighty shove – strong, steady, assured.
And if that worked, why she’d simply strive to aim for his chest on the rebound.
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
