Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
A nod of her head was given and granted, the notions of pastries going by the wayside for the thrill of action and motion. Figuring out how to hold her staff so that it assisted in what she was striving to achieve, her gilded gaze settled upon his movements, attempting to gauge how the throw would go –
Straight towards her chest, apparently.
She had to counter it rather awkwardly, maneuvering the staff in front of her torso and then flailing it outwards. She was surprised to find it connected, but was sorely lacking her usual power behind the motion; sneering, wrinkling her nose, at the foreign concept.
But it was lobbed back towards the merman all the same.
Straight towards her chest, apparently.
She had to counter it rather awkwardly, maneuvering the staff in front of her torso and then flailing it outwards. She was surprised to find it connected, but was sorely lacking her usual power behind the motion; sneering, wrinkling her nose, at the foreign concept.
But it was lobbed back towards the merman all the same.
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
