Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
She didn’t have an answer for him at first. Something in her didn’t want to yield, likely pride, emboldened fixtures where she still raged for those crossed and marred by him. It stuck to her jaw and clung along her shoulders, where they remained taut and rigid, bothered by sentiments she couldn’t name. And now there were other proportions – like a wavering plague of loss, loss, loss, all over again.
So she withheld the biting nooses strangling over her tongue, the embittered, clustered, coiled ropes needling and nettling at her teeth; listening as he shifted closer. Her gaze went to the ground, to the long, wavering grass as the wind swept between them and the endless field, to Fangorn’s little vines wrapping around the jerky in her hand, prying it all apart for him when the news fell. “Poor Haai,” she murmured for lack of better words; the noble griffin who’d always helped, who Melita had gone after in one of the many gods damned fires, who’d showed her tact and abilities time and time again.
Another sacrifice that didn’t have to happen. “Sorry,” she offered thereafter, softly, threads of a whisper, for lack of anything better to say. No why did you bring her in there when they both knew the companion probably would have anyway, regardless of demands and commands. “I’ll put something there when I go back through.” Better than bits of food and treats she couldn’t have any longer.
So she withheld the biting nooses strangling over her tongue, the embittered, clustered, coiled ropes needling and nettling at her teeth; listening as he shifted closer. Her gaze went to the ground, to the long, wavering grass as the wind swept between them and the endless field, to Fangorn’s little vines wrapping around the jerky in her hand, prying it all apart for him when the news fell. “Poor Haai,” she murmured for lack of better words; the noble griffin who’d always helped, who Melita had gone after in one of the many gods damned fires, who’d showed her tact and abilities time and time again.
Another sacrifice that didn’t have to happen. “Sorry,” she offered thereafter, softly, threads of a whisper, for lack of anything better to say. No why did you bring her in there when they both knew the companion probably would have anyway, regardless of demands and commands. “I’ll put something there when I go back through.” Better than bits of food and treats she couldn’t have any longer.
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
