Training We mean it, but I promise we're not mean
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
#15
MELITA
Every time Melita glimpsed upon Kiada, she lived in the past. She couldn’t help it – the demise of her home, her world, her family, had been partially orchestrated and assisted in by this girl, by this greedy, avaricious woman who’d craved power –

and it pained her to admit that Melita might’ve been the same. That she yearned for power and might and fortitude.

But not at the expense of others. Not at the expense of kingdoms and sovereigns. Not at the expense of people’s loved ones. Perhaps that was the difference – that the youth’s selfishness was there, but not as broad, not as startling.

“I guess not,” she murmured, somewhat defeated, exhausted, fatigued, enough to admit that. But they weren’t friends. She wasn’t going to forgive her. The honeybee girl had every intention of wallowing in her rage, in her temper, until something shifted, changed, and altered. “The past is the only place where I still have them.” Her hands shook against her chipped, cracked, ruptured staff, the fragmented pieces worse and worse after this altercation, but her eyes were vivid, blistering, molten things, the gold not resplendent or luminescent – bold, furious, angry. Trying to be better echoed in her mind, and she had half a notion to laugh and scoff, to snort and push it away, still too sodden in her menace and malice, fumes of contempt and loathing, uncertain where to place it all if she didn’t have it upon her. The girl didn’t know what to say in response to it though, because she was doing the same thing – becoming stronger, braver, an unrelenting force so that none of her kin, her brethren, were injured again, so she could defend them, so she could honor them. She sneered instead, like a red wolf raising her hackles.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Hollowed Grounds Registrar

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 2 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 29 - Luck: 17 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 1,674 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#16
KIADA
your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth anymore
that you are ruined
She hears the tone in Melita’s voice as she speaks, and her heart yearns for the only other person she knows who’s experienced the same that she has. But she can’t help it if the girl wants nothing to do with her, she doesn’t even blame the honeybee girl. All she can do is just let Melita sit in her fury and her rage; but Kiada can let her know that she’s not alone in it all, regardless of who or what live in Caido in relation to her. And so she nods, that fury within her subsiding as something cracks and caves and she drops the rough hewn staff with a clatter on the ground.

It’s the only place I have mine too.” She admits, knowing it doesn’t make it better, that it likely won’t matter to the red haired girl. And there’s nothing within Kiada other than defeat and sorrow yet again, hopeful that this training would help and now realizing it’s done nothing. She can feel the bruising along her cheek bone under her eye as it begins to bloom and her face takes on a similar look to Melita’s, a combination of anger and frustration.

But I try to think about what they might say, might think, if they were here with me. It is how I make my choices now, no longer out of desperation as I did as a stupid child.” But she notices Melita’s sneer, far more wolffish than Kiada he the energy for anymore. And with it, she lets her icy gaze drift over the other girl for a moment before she picks up her jacket. “I'll leave you be, then.” She remarks, making her way toward the exit, picking up her small sword on the way. Should Melita wish to stop her, she can, but if she doesn’t Kiada will make her way toward the Bakery.
and you wonder why he lets you
the butcher
touch him,
the sun
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
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
#17
MELITA
She was stuck, deep in the mire of her hatred, deep in the heart of her contempt. Her ire was a blistering, scathing thing, as monstrous as all her other promises, aching to inflict pain again and again because she thought Kiada deserved it. She could heard the echo of the girl’s words, but they were lost in her despair, in her vile vehemence. Then maybe you shouldn’t have caused so much of it Melita wanted to holler back into the shadows, the rock, the crag, wound further and further because it wasn’t fair, none of it was. Her eyes went to the bruise forming along Kiada’s face and she was ecstatic with the blend of hues and colors; that she’d enacted some form of vengeance upon the other youth, that they still knew and comprehended where they stood.

She didn’t care if Kiada was still angry. She didn’t care at all. It was nothing to her – nothing in the features and lines of her own misery, her own anguish.

Her next words were likely meant to inflict pain too; and the honeybee girl flinched at the fathoms in the accusation. She understood very well what her family would’ve said, would’ve done – her mother, beatific, wondrous, kind healer, would’ve pleaded and begged for her to stop, never truly barring her choices in life, shaking her head while the world bled and spiraled around Melita’s weapons. Her sister, sweet, beneficent Clementine, would’ve sang and took her into her arms and wished for the abhorrence to die away, to fall to pieces, to crumble into ash.

But they weren’t here. They couldn’t see her now – sculpted and shaped into something new, something corrupt, something blistered and scathing. Because of her. Because of Kisamoa. Because of things completely out of her control.

She said naught; balling her fists at her side, ushering for Fangorn to follow. Her back turned, away from the Harpy, from the remarks, from the wounds crawling their way across her flesh. Good riddance she called out in her hollowed mind, where the demons and savages still thrived, where she’d long since lost any tremors of innocence.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down


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