Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
It never took the Honeybee long to intrepidly wander her way towards Ludo’s shrine. The anklet’s charms shown against the hues of her skin, even as the colder reaches of water caused a shiver from beneath her feet – the surface reminding her of the Eirachi shrine still not destroyed or vanquished.
Despite those semblances of cold and chill drawn through her form, she didn’t relent. Not much had ever stopped her, much less the imparted depths of some seasonal refrain. Nimbly, if not with steps much quicker and swifter, the youth crouched and kneeled before the pedestal – eyeing the wares with as much intrigue as everything else in her life. Toys were posed and fixed: some dolls with distorted joints, as if they’d already been played with, chess sets, modestly carved models of various animals. From her own bag, she produced a bag of dice, all brightly hued and wondrous, with different symbols instead of the usual numbering system. She figured the herald would enjoy the chaotic balance of it all. “There you are, Ludo,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a second, listening to the raptness of silence and the stretch of the waves around her.
Despite those semblances of cold and chill drawn through her form, she didn’t relent. Not much had ever stopped her, much less the imparted depths of some seasonal refrain. Nimbly, if not with steps much quicker and swifter, the youth crouched and kneeled before the pedestal – eyeing the wares with as much intrigue as everything else in her life. Toys were posed and fixed: some dolls with distorted joints, as if they’d already been played with, chess sets, modestly carved models of various animals. From her own bag, she produced a bag of dice, all brightly hued and wondrous, with different symbols instead of the usual numbering system. She figured the herald would enjoy the chaotic balance of it all. “There you are, Ludo,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a second, listening to the raptness of silence and the stretch of the waves around her.
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
