a lion-hearted girl
Melita had never inherited her mother’s green thumb. Part of it had been lack of attention; partial only to the quick songs humming through the kitchen as the herbs dried, rather than finding out properties. Or that she’d been drawn to violence and impulse, rather than the need for patience, for watching, for growing.So she stared down at the sapling in her hand as it had personally offended her, a modest frown emboldening her usual features of snark and feral qualities. Fangorn uttered something and began to lift bits of soil and dirt from the loam, and the Honeybee knew it would be beneficial for Torchline, especially after the entire shitshow, but she also didn’t care for being unmoored and lost and stupefied.
Sila rang encouraging words and sidled next to the vampire gourd, and the smuggler sank to her knees beside her companions, huffing with her trowel in hand as she began to dig too. “Fiiiiine,” was a grumble. It would just be sad to see the thing immediately decimated because of her piss poor capabilities.
ready for a fight
MELITA
