Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Care to join me rankled along her emboldened brain, and it was enough to bypass the ridiculous headache pounding against the rest of her senses, and the need to rest. Maybe sparring would tear it all away. “Sure! Though I’ll warn you I drank waaaaay too much last night,” perhaps by way of mentioning it because she’d be prone to doing something stupid, foolish, or vehement simply for the sake of doing so. Difficult to tell until the Honeybee was in the moment.
Snagging her staff out of her bag, she started her usual exercises, warming up her arms into the residual practice, the muscles already humming with the familiar weight, twist, and turn. As the armament hummed from one hand to the other, her eyes flickered along the less-ignorant motions of Sohalia’s own. “Where have you been learning?”
Snagging her staff out of her bag, she started her usual exercises, warming up her arms into the residual practice, the muscles already humming with the familiar weight, twist, and turn. As the armament hummed from one hand to the other, her eyes flickered along the less-ignorant motions of Sohalia’s own. “Where have you been learning?”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
