Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Eventually, the youth found what she was truly looking for, nestled in amongst the soil, underneath ridges of flowers, stems, and roots. Plucking one of them carefully from the earth, she wove it diligently into the crown itself, tucked away as it began to crawl along the newest confinements and adornments. Hiding her snicker, she held out the finished product in offering, turning it slightly so the evidence wasn’t so obvious from certain angles. “For you,” and then began working on one for herself, all innocent airs.
But amongst the other trials and tribulations, fingers curling over pink sprigs like pieces of lace, the youth inclined towards her imagination over…planes and such. “Oh sure, we had magic. Just like here. Some were blessed. Some weren’t. It was rarer to not have anything.” Narrowing her eyes in the picture and speculation of the advanced technology, she pondered lightly. “Wonder if we could have anything like that here, then.”
But amongst the other trials and tribulations, fingers curling over pink sprigs like pieces of lace, the youth inclined towards her imagination over…planes and such. “Oh sure, we had magic. Just like here. Some were blessed. Some weren’t. It was rarer to not have anything.” Narrowing her eyes in the picture and speculation of the advanced technology, she pondered lightly. “Wonder if we could have anything like that here, then.”
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
