Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
She could hear Fangorn and Sila’s growls and calls from shore; some warning pitches or hints of incoming strangers, but paid no mind to it. Not until another’s voice resounded near hers – her wild eyes flickering open quickly, rapidly, fingers itching towards a weapon out of natural, inherent reactions.
Only when she’d sidestepped, floating along the water despite its cold along the bottom of her feet, did she take in the other, and see, perhaps, there wasn’t a threat at all. Any compliments went in one ear and out the other (hardly noting them at all), though she tilted her head, furrowed her brow – realizing she didn’t know the younger man, but there was some air of familiarity about him. “Do I know you?”
Only when she’d sidestepped, floating along the water despite its cold along the bottom of her feet, did she take in the other, and see, perhaps, there wasn’t a threat at all. Any compliments went in one ear and out the other (hardly noting them at all), though she tilted her head, furrowed her brow – realizing she didn’t know the younger man, but there was some air of familiarity about him. “Do I know you?”
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
