Looking for Trouble
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#15
Phoebe
As far as Phoebe knew, it took a lot for wolves to attack humans. But clearly these ones were desperate enough to try, even through their fur looking much skinnier than animals that size should have. And though being starved might have weakened them, it also made them more dangerous, being more determined to win their kill in order to survive. How quickly Melita jumped into action was inspiring, and briefly Phoebe wished she had her grit. But wishing wouldn't get her anywhere. She would have to will herself some grit if she was to be any help. She had to pull her own weight.

Melita's first strike rang true, and with a yelp one wolf was knocked unconscious, collapsing on the ground with a yelp. But her following strike missed, the other wolves having gotten smart, dodging around and backing up slightly. She wasn't as easy a target, even if she was outnumbered.

The young midwife looked around, trying to find something to attack the wolves with, which was when she saw the other two behind her. "They're behind us too!" she said, her voice shaky, eyes wide with panic as she faced them. Brown eyes spotted a large rock and despite her fear she lunged for it, thin fingers clutching it for dear life. As she did so one of the wolves jumped at her, knocking her to the ground. Phoebe screamed and flailed, whacking the wolf in the face with rock she held, making it retreat with a pained yelp. She shakily got back to her feet, trying to not lose eye contact with them again.
In These Past Few Days When I See Myself
I Seem Like Someone Else

Coding base by Sky/Odd!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#16
MELITA
The threats were all around, beguiling and alarming, and her heart should’ve been marching in a jackrabbit crescendo, frantic and distraught, pulsing in foreboding madness. Perhaps the more ominous faction was the fact that it wasn’t; cool, calm, and collected in the face of danger, because she’d seen its face so many times before. Her breath was fire and brimstone, her actions were swift opuses and oeuvres to disaster and ruin, and her movements were grounded, earthen, shown the way by so many people who’d tried so hard to teach her. Her first strike was true, but the second only found air, and she leapt over the first wolf and thought to pursue the other wretched little demon, destined to be the bigger monster, the fiend, the infidel they never saw coming. She was a phantom, she was a wraith, she was tireless and merciless, an unrelenting particle of flesh and bone, her staff swinging into the midnight air, egging the world on. Do your worst, her savage motions polished in neat etches, in fine details, in broad scopes of treachery launched from her endeavors. For I will do mine.

Phoebe’s efforts were reactionary, but at least she was not totally defenseless; Melita watched from the corner of her eye as her rock landed against one of the wolves, the corresponding yelp signifying all she needed to hear. Two down. How many more to go? “Good work!” she hollered and encouraged over growls and howls, her audacious grin encountering Phoebe’s quivers and shakes, coming back to stand next to her, listening to Fangorn follow, in step with the motion of her ankles, as ravenous as she.

Another wolf tried their luck, meandering around Phoebe’s left side, proffering its intentions with hackles raised and slow, stalking movements. The honeybee child, wild and savage, swung her staff again, hoping to crack it along the beast’s ribs or skull, yearning to hear a dull thud, a broken whim, a promise of never again.

But this distraction meant one more could try its luck, and Melita didn’t see as she turned her back, as she offered an opening; and this canine, seemingly the boldest and most daring of the pack, made to launch at both of them, hoping to encounter and entangle its mouth around either girls’ flesh.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#17
Phoebe
The encouragement did help, if Phoebe was being fully honest with herself. That she at least didn’t make a complete mess of this was a blessing. Her breath came in short gasps – she was fit and in shape but it was fear that made her breathless. Two wolves were down, there were three left, and those left seemed to grow more desperate seeing their pack mates fall. One came alongside her and while Phoebe shied away in fear, Melita attacked it head on, whacking it right on the head and sending it down for the count.

But that left Melita vulnerable, and another came flying for her. Phoebe briefly panicked, realizing there was no way her friend could react in time. But a sudden sense of clarity fell over her, and she remembered being taught that loud, aggressive noises tended to scare off predators. ”Get back you mangy mutt!!” Phoebe shouted at the wolf in as mean a tone as she could muster, swinging the rock she held to try and collide it with it’s head.
In These Past Few Days When I See Myself
I Seem Like Someone Else

Coding base by Sky/Odd!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#18
MELITA
Melita didn’t like the notion of vulnerability: shied away from it even on her best days, when the pain flickered and the memories grew, bittersweet, callous, and the whispers of not enough scraped at her mind. She never liked to think of herself as powerless or susceptible, even though in some aspects she always would be; dragged down to the bottom of a lake, choked by the ghost of her mother, forced to swallow down the ash, the bile, the soot, the decay of her friends and family around her.

Here and now – it was happening again, and she be damned if it snapped at her features, if it tugged and swept her away, back down into that tattered rubble and ruin. Annihilation might have bit and clawed at her soul, at her heart, at her lungs, but it’d have to haul her kicking and screaming straight down to the denizens of hell.

Her last strike was a blistering crescendo of malice, of menace, of so much bottled up hatred and vitriol she wasn’t truly surprised to see the canine registered unconscious; and she’d gladly do it again. Phoebe’s loud call forced her to swing back to her left, where another prowled, and even she hadn’t had the staff in her hands, she might’ve clapped at Phoebe’s audacity and might. The wolf launched and attempted to strike, but luck and some sense of self-preservation had Phoebe’s assault hit the edge of the predator’s jaw. Melita could hear the crackling ripple of bone and stone before the great, keening whine, the beast swinging its head from side to side to be rid of the pain, the anguish, retreating back. “Well done,” she uttered with her same, vicious grin, then went to her right, where one more had taken up the bait, growling at her side, hackles raised, threats laced and lanced into the air. “Not today,” she snickered, she smirked, she laughed, and her staff was an extension of her arm, a sweeping gesture entrenched in overwhelming savagery and ferocity, intending to make and mark her sinister impact on its skull, on its side, and anywhere in between.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#19
Phoebe
The crack noise that followed the rock hitting the jaw of the wolf make Phoebe wince. It was terrifying and horrifying all at once. But the ordeal would soon be over. Melita had hit her first target with ease of course, and Phoebe had managed to send this wolf running, its jaw terribly broken. That left only one which attacked Melita again. Another resounding crack from her staff against the skull of the wolf left the last of their attackers on the ground.

The lived. They lived.

Realizing the danger had passed, Phoebe was left shaking head to toe, relief succumbing to shock. She sank to her knees, the muscles in her legs no longer willing to support her weight. Had she been alone, she most certainly would not be so lucky. The blonde looked up at the redhead with wide-eyed admiration, and another realization dawned. Ronin had told her he never found any item to be particularly useful in and of itself, but being able to rely on those around him were key to survival. Melita, her companion in this fight, had been the reason she had survived. She was stronger and more capable, she had compelled her to act as well. She didn’t need a portal or a cape of invisibility or a shield, she needed a way to bring someone or something capable to protect her and her charges. Something that had the nature, that was made for the purpose of fighting and defense. Something that balanced her pacifist nature – the second side to her coin.

A light laugh escaped her lips and she shook her head lightly. ”As always Frey, you think several steps ahead of me.” she said quietly, smiling up at Melita. Then, loud enough for her to hear she spoke again, ”Thank you, for saving me.” she said.
In These Past Few Days When I See Myself
I Seem Like Someone Else

Coding base by Sky/Odd!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#20
MELITA
She lived and she lived and she lived because surviving was at the basis of her mind, the forefront of all her ambitions, the thing she strived for deep in the dark alleys, in the sinking fathoms of life’s cruelties. So she wasn’t surprised when they managed to remain breathing, whole, alive, and well, some more traumatized than the others, lingering within the labyrinth as the last cracks chiseled into skulls, as the last jaws broke and predators waned. The honeybee youth didn’t shake, didn’t tremble, didn’t shudder; long ago, she would’ve, eyes widened and frightened by the piercing shades of the abyss, of the void, and its monsters laden in between. Now she only lowered her staff so her muscles could rest, allowed it to hit the warren’s ground, alongside the shattered dogs and their worthless endeavors. She took it in, breathed, allowed the pulse of her blood to slow, dampen, no longer a need for the fury, for the ferocity, that had incensed and curled in her heart, in her movements; motions ready should another threat appear and loom. Over and done with, another day she would’ve spent in the Rift, running from demons and infidels, spiraling back when they’d come to a dead end.

Her eyes caught Phoebe recovering, falling down, down, down to the maze’s floor, admiration spread from her gaze to Melita’s own; the girl arched her brow and didn’t quite understand the weight of the reverence – she would’ve done the same, over and over and over again, to ensure someone’s safety. The Rift had sculpted it into her being, safety, sanctuary, and sanctum, not through assuaging, soothing tones, but blades and merciless barbarity. “You’re welcome,” she beamed back, instituting a little curtsy, a flickering bow, before leaning her arms on her staff, folding them over the top of the wooden weapon, gazing back into the midnight junctures, the winding vines, the foreboding wounds. “You survived. How do you feel now?”
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#21
Phoebe
You survived, how do you feel?

How did she feel? Every inch of her body trembled from the stress she had just experienced, her heart still racing, and in that regard she felt awful. Things could have gone so wrong, things could have ended so badly, but they hadn’t. They had succeeded, and in the aftermath of her adrenaline rush she felt a little proud of herself for stretching her boundaries so much. They had won, they were alive, and the danger had passed.

”I feel a lot of things…but I think I mostly would like to go home now.” she admitted with an apologetic smile. ”Sorry I’m such a poor adventuring partner…maybe next time I will be even braver.” she said hopefully. If there was a next time anyways. For now though, she needed to get a hold of herself, and go convene with Frey again.
In These Past Few Days When I See Myself
I Seem Like Someone Else

Coding base by Sky/Odd!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#22
MELITA
It gets better, she wanted to say, wanted to offer, in those broken-down, bone-weary moments, when the only thing one felt like conquering was damnation and serenity. It might’ve been a lie too – or the girl had simply become numb to the conditions and contradictions of danger, thriving on it instead of running away or shaking at its core. She’d seen it, become a part of it, drummed its reverberations straight into her savage, nefarious heart. That wasn’t a place Phoebe was meant to crawl or live within – bright and sunny, kind and thoughtful, eager to lend a hand or soothe an ailment. “You were fine and plenty brave,” she smiled, and only because she was feral and wild, did she proffer a hand, to lead her away from treachery, shadows, and darkness now, the beast who’d watch all of their backs. Melita had always wanted to be the savior, but not at the cost of so many lives, all etched and sketched into her scars, sliding down her spine, adrift in her lungs, on the pulse and beat of her blood. They were within her now, every lost dream, every wronged soul, aching to be heard and cherished. The youth would commit to the same actions, day in and day out, stronger, mightier, until someone said otherwise (death, perhaps). “Let’s go home?” It was a question, but also a tug, a pull, a lure, back to sanctuaries and sanctums, leading back into the light instead of the infernal, uncanny darkness.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down


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