[SE] muddy bones (open)
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Blacksmith

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
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#1
OLIVER
Visiting shrines had become a consistent thing for Oliver now. Sometimes he wouldn't have any offerings and would just pray, however today he brought a fresh-baked loaf of cinnamon bread along with a bottle of alcohol. Afterwards, he decided to do some more exploring. He was dressed far less fancy today and in a more comfortable outfit, one ready for looking for something fun.

It's how he ended up in a new place, one that was completely unfamiliar and that he had only barely heard of. The Bone Bridge. It wasn't real bones, or so he heard. So he felt comfortable enough to go. Yeah, he probably shouldn't be going alone, but Oliver was in a very overconfident mood today. He felt like he looked sexy as hell in his relaxed outfit, he slept well, and life was going great.

Now, he wasn't quite confident enough to completely cross the bridge. Rather, he stood at the entrance. Oliver looked up and down the bridge and noticed some of the mud that he had come across so many times. In the holes of the bridge, the mud seemed to move on its own. If this had been the first time he saw it, he would've been afraid, but he was now extremely familiar, especially when he accidentally stepped in it before.

Squatting down, he reached forward and moved to pick up some of the mud in his fingers. Then, he did something weird as fuck: He started to try and draw a sunflower on the gray bottom of the bridge, curious to see if the mud could possibly come to use.
i just want my existance to be
more than trembling
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)
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#2
MELITA
The Bone Bridge was a familiar landmark in the girl’s travels; built on audacity, boldness, and impulsivity – as if it were a challenge to tackle over and over and over again, scorched and segmented on challenge and upheaval. With LongNight’s end, the notions seemed to collect and start themselves all over again, her weapons bounding along her back as she skipped, staff in hand, quiver along her shoulder, entangled and unraveled in her melee. Fangorn concocted much of the same motions, striving to keep up with her lithe, sprite convictions, as they sprinted, as they raced, beneath the spring sun and the gentle breeze, scorching their way towards mist and fog.

It would’ve been a labyrinthine conjecture had the girl not been experienced in these aptitudes and multitudes before, basking in the stretch of lost souls and adrift contortions, humming along on the outskirts of the bridge’s structure. Ahead though, there appeared to be someone else – her eyes narrowing slightly, head tilting at the notion of strangers in the midst – not Lily, though she’d gotten over her fear, and she couldn’t recall anyone else with such a head of hair. “Hello!” She called, hands cupped around her mouth, rummaging past lines and tethers, following after their movements, stepping lightly over the same memory mud as before. At some intervals, she casually pushed the muck aside, letting it fall to the brink of disaster below, steadily inclining her way along the structure, a hum under her breath, not a single notion of fear or trepidation.
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
Blacksmith

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
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#3
OLIVER
Okay, maybe he looked super embarrassing right now, painting away with his mud, but he was bored as hell and wanted to figure out all of the properties of it. Surely, there was something really great that could come out of this stuff! Besides, he had time to spare and he was completely alone, nobody was going to see him literally painting with a whole bunch of mud-

Until he heard an unfamiliar voice call out. Immediately lifting his head up, Oliver looked around until eventually his eyes landed on an unfamiliar individual. Raising an eyebrow, he stopped his work on the muddy disaster of a drawing and looked at the girl. She wasn't someone he recognized, not in the slightest. He would've remembered her vibrant hair. "Hello?" It was a bit more of a question, as though he wasn't sure if she needed him for something or if he was doing something wrong.

"Is everything okay?" Oliver called out to her, hoping he could be heard. "Please be safe-
i just want my existance to be
more than trembling
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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#4
MELITA
She hadn’t thought her appearance would’ve raised alarm, sprite convictions, fey attributes; the wild, impulsive, impetuous regard long since entangled, woven, in between veins and skin, flesh and bone, a living, breathing aspect of her existence. Too much spirit, too much savagery, too much archaic need for outside air, relishing the motion along her lungs, along her frame, along her figure, might have contributed to the inquiries, to the uncertainty laden before her – a stranger with ivory hair, as if laden and sketched by ghosts. Is everything okay? rushed over the youth’s senses, and she slowed, pondering if she’d somehow instigated, showed, or displayed danger – releasing the hard grasp on her staff, allowing it to interplay along her hands and fingers. Please be safe was likely a statement she’d heard too many times before, and never truly listened to or acknowledged – brazen, audacious, fortune favoring the bold, until it didn’t.

“Hi! Everything’s fine!” She nodded, a press of her untamed locks flying in the wind, as she came closer, gilded eyes inspecting the reaches of the bone bridge, of the mud puddles suddenly being turned, twisted, outlined, and sketched into something far more noble than she could concoct. Even now, the girl used the end of her staff to push aside more muck off the bridge’s wake. “I’m Melita. Who are you?” New faces, new strangers; she might’ve seen him in LongNight’s press, had she not been so distracted and so beleaguered by everything else going on around them. Liberation and freedom had held a certain semblance over her now, a return to normalcy, to seditious actions, to the wake of other things.

Then she crouched, inspecting the drawings further, Fangorn at her heels, pausing to sniff at everything else nearby. “These are great,” she smiled, she beamed, like traces of the sun, one of her fingers extending to another puddle, mimicking his movements and motions, except hers was a crudely outlined pumpkin, fanged like her corresponding gourd companion.
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
Blacksmith

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
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#5
OLIVER
Okay...she was fine. He didn't exactly trust her, but whatever. The last thing he needed was for her to fall off the bridge. Oliver wasn't a fan of heights, not in the slightest. It's why he really didn't want to move from his current position, worried about what horrific fate may come to him if he were to wander even a couple of inches away from the safety of the ground.

The girl seemed normal enough...but her companion? What the actual fucking hell was that thing?! It looked like a little orange demon that would haunt him in his dreams. One day he was going to wake up to find that same little demon at the foot of his bed plotting to rip off his ankles or something. She seemed completely fine with it, so Oliver couldn't say anything about it. "Nice to meet you, Melita. My name is Oliver." He tried his best to not look at the monster, smiling at her instead. It was nice to meet Melita, not nice to meet orange-demon boy.

A light blush lit up his cheeks at the compliment on his drawing. Of course she could see it. "Oh...thank you...yours is really good, too." Oliver wouldn't want to draw the orange-demon thing himself, but it didn't look half bad. Oliver liked it.

Moving on to a new drawing, he started to try and draw a bird. Just a normal, common bird. It wasn't going too great, but hey, he was trying his best. "What brings you all the way out here?"
i just want my existance to be
more than trembling
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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#6
MELITA
Completely unaware of his mistrust, because she’d never done anything untoward to instigate those feelings in others (well, except for the blight, but that had been entirely out of her control), her smile continued to radiate and beam, blossom and bloom, fingers dipping into the mud and orchestrating other outlines. Never quite an artist, most of them likely looked archaic or childlike, placing a toothy grin on her fabled gourd picture, before moving on to a rough sketch of a luxere, a little disappointed she couldn’t capture the depth of their glowing antlers. “Pleasure, Oliver,” she hummed under her breath, Fangorn’s eldritch, uncanny eyes riveted on the ivory spikes of the man’s hair.

She tilted her head at his compliment, but shrugged her shoulders then, continuing on with the rough surface of the deer. “Do you like to draw?” Maybe he was an artist by trade, or belonged to that particular guild. Perhaps he had a talent for it, back from wherever he’d come from (not a Natural; they were known citizens – and he certainly wasn’t). She watched him begin another design, grinning at wings, before curiosity seemed to entangle itself along his fold too. “Oh, I come out here a lot.” For amusement, for glancing off into the ether and fog, for rampaging across the bridge, for daring, for goading, for trying to help her friends face their fears, where she likely should’ve had some. Then she volleyed the question in return, the tunes still halcyon along her tongue. “Why are you here?”
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
Blacksmith

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
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#7
OLIVER
It wasn't that Oliver necessarily didn't trust her... it was the pumpkin thing. She seemed like a lovely gal, yeah, but what the actual fuck was that thing. The way it looked at him made his skin crawl. Gods. He'd need a lot of alcohol to forget about that thing.

He tried to listen to her, but the damn thing just kept staring at him! Like it was sizing him up, prepared to chomp his head off. The beady little eyes were staring into his soul, making Oliver remember all the mistakes he had done. Like that one time when he went to a candy shop and they had salt water taffy and he picked one up and just happened to walk outside with it without realizing that he had done so-

That was something he didn't want to remember. Thanks creepy pumpkin dude!

Still, he was able to somewhat forget about it thanks to Melita's artwork. It wasn't hard to tell exactly what it was. A small smile formed on his lips and he looked at her, ignoring the eavesdropper. "I love your luxere, it's a lot better than mine." He said with a small laugh.

"Yeah, I like to draw. I'm not super good at it, but I really enjoy it. It helps me to calm down and relax. As well, it's super amazing to put a lot of time into something and to see me slowly improve. I mean, I still suck, but I'm certainly better than when I first started." In no way was Oliver an artist. Bastien was an artist, Clem was an artist as well...but him? No way in hell could he be considered at the same rank as them. He was an aspiring artist at best, nothing more.

Ah. She caught his bluff...was it a bluff? Oliver had hardly any reason to be there. Hell, he hadn't even been there before! Should he be honest? Or act cool? "Honestly? Never been here before in my life. Decided to do some exploring, found it, and then I guess I just...wanted to draw. I saw the opportunity and took it." Oliver let out a carefree shrug. Now that he thought of it, it did seem a little stupid that he had chosen to draw randomly. But was that really a bad thing?

"You said you come here often, yeah? Tell me about this place." And yes, he was still trying to ignore the creepy pumpkin devil.
i just want my existance to be
more than trembling
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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#8
MELITA
Fangorn was having an excellent time unnerving the stranger. Too many others had seen him or experienced his brethren – so he couldn’t achieve the full effect of his wayfaring, eerie, enigmatic ways for ages – his great toothy grin extended every time Oliver seemed nervous or edgy. Melita managed to roll her eyes, reaching over to stroke at the top of the gourd’s head, only a mild rebuke stoked in their connection. “Sorry, this is my companion, Fangorn.” She paused, tilting her head again, regarding the earthen demon. “He thinks it’s funny to unsettle you.” Her brows quirked upward, mouth hiding the beginnings of a laugh, before her eyes lingered down on their drawings again.

“Thank you. Luxeres are wonderful. Have you met any?” They’d been a beautiful entity along LongNight’s scalding throngs; she’d pressed her ilk into their sanction, their sanctuary, music curling from her lips as they all ran from the embers. As for his other admissions, she simply shook her head, wild, crimson locks flowing and unfurling. “We all start somewhere. And they’re not awful at all.” Then the girl instigated a laugh, rousing spitfire musings. “I can’t carry a single tune, but that doesn’t stop me!” Few things ever did – when her mind was set to goals and ideals – stubborn, obstinate, resolute, a piercing, puncturing fire-breathing entity when her heart was resolute and her soul intact.

At least Oliver had been somewhat adventurous, sojourning to the Bone Bridge, to the tethers and lines of ominous qualities. “Well, there are rumors of monsters beneath the bridge.” Here she smiled, a mischievous, Cheshire grin that likely matched Fangorn’s, humming a little under her breath. “I haven’t seen any, despite all the times I’ve come.” Her tone indicated some disappointment. “We built a shrine to Ludo recently, over there,” and she pointed in the direction, back and away from the twisting, turning fog.
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
Blacksmith

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
Played by: Oakley Offline
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Posts: 1,520 | Total: 1,890
MP: 700
#9
OLIVER
Ah. So she did know the weird pumpkin devil thing. She almost seemed amused by the way the freaky little thing was behaving, which Oliver couldn't even understand. He could get by nice, fluffy little creatures. But that?! It terrified him! It was made even worse when Oliver found out the damn thing liked to make people uncomfortable. "Ah...glad he's enjoying himself?" Clearly, Oliver was made even more uncomfortable now.

Thank the gods, the conversation changed so Oliver could try to ignore the Fangpumpkin boy. "Oh, yeah, I've met the Luxere once. Sang to them and stuff. I mean...I only really know one song to sing to them, but I'd like to think I didn't totally suck." Oliver had no idea if he was even good. The one person who heard him sing didn't really comment on his abilities and nobody else had ever really asked to hear him sing before. Guess that'd just remain a mystery. "You have a point...if you enjoy singing, do it. Fuck what everyone else thinks. If it makes you happy and doesn't hurt anyone else, no point in stopping yourself." Oliver was a little bit of a hypocrite, judging himself far more severely than he did with others.

Melita seemed to know quite a lot about the bridge, which was both a good and a bad thing. Oliver wasn't exactly sure how much he wanted to hear that there could be monsters under the bridge. "Well...maybe they don't want to be seen? Maybe they don't wanna both us, they could be harmless..." Give the monsters the benefit of the doubt, yeah, great job Oliver.

At the mention of Ludo, Oliver perked up a bit. A shrine dedicated to one specific god? Interesting... "I haven't been to the shrine, but if I ever need to pray to Ludo, I'll go check it out. Thank you for building it."
i just want my existance to be
more than trembling
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
#10
MELITA
If anything, Oliver’s nervousness seemed to make the entire situation worse – Fangorn feeding and feasting upon the fear and trepidation brewing their way into the atmosphere. Very rarely was anyone ever terrorized by his existence, and he reveled in the irreverence while Melita rolled her eyes. “Very much so,” she joked. Fangorn was usually fairly innocent despite the ghoulish smile and the eerie eyes; harmless as long as Oliver didn’t mind ankles being gnawed upon.

The girl smiled at the luxere conversation though, always inspired by their gentle ways and innocent philosophy, simultaneously shocked whenever they were lured by her lack of musical talent. She even laughed at Oliver’s following comment, to enjoy herself no matter how poorly she performed. “That’s the spirit.” She hadn’t stopped. She hadn’t ceased. And no one had ever asked her to – so with a shrug, she meandered on.

He didn’t seem enthused about the possibility of monsters, but given his predilections towards Fangorn, she probably wouldn’t persist along those avenues; not too far at least. “Maybe,” but her grin was massive and Cheshire while she worked, fingers dabbing along the muck, and still shooing some away with her foot, listening to them plop off the bridge and down into the ether. Her experience with monsters had been the direct opposite. She kept the notions to herself.

Interest in Ludo had piqued though, so the grin slid into more of a genuine smile, lacking the fundamental mischief. “Have you met any gods?”
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
Blacksmith

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
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#11
OLIVER
Of course his nervousness made it much worse, Oliver was truly that unlucky. Why couldn't Melita have a normal companion. Maybe she could have a luxere like Loren or a baby dragon like Phoebe. Literally anything would've made Oliver feel better than the creepy pumpkin dude. In fact, he'd rather be lectured by Phoebe at this point than be completely stared down by the pumpkin devil. "How did him and you meet exactly? I don't think I've ever seen something like him before." On the outside, Oliver tried to show interest, but on the inside Oliver was praying to all of the gods that the thing would stop staring at him.

"You gotta live a positive life, right? I mean, what's the point in living if all we do is be negative and never make sure that we are happy." Oliver couldn't enjoy people who chose to live a life free of happiness, never considering to do anything that makes them feel joy. Sure, you may be able to accomplish far more, but are you really living a good life that way? Everyone deserves happiness, everyone.

Oliver watched with keen interest as she tossed the mud over the side. Part of him wanted to ask her to stop because she could anger the monsters, but the rest of him said good riddance fuck the mud. "Are the monsters down there different than the ones from LongNight?" Were there different kinds of monsters? Could monsters be turned good? The pumpkin devil sure looked like a monster to Oliver and yet he was Melita's companion. So what if there were maybe, just maybe, friendly monsters?

The mention of gods was a bit of a tough spot for Oliver, but he wasn't as upset now as he used to be. Not in the slightest. "No, I've never met one of the gods. I'm an abandoned so they don't really respond to me...but I've also barely even been here two seasons. So I have plenty of time left to receive a response." There we go. Be more positive!
i just want my existance to be
more than trembling
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
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#12
MELITA
Fangorn’s stare remained unrelenting, poised and positioned straight on Oliver, while Melita continued dabbing her finger into the mud, spreading out more lines, designed to be elongated luxere antlers. Perhaps Oliver was far more new to this world than the honeybee girl had realized; missing out on all the enigmatic pumpkin activities. “Oh, vampire gourds come out every Leafchange.” Maybe they were inspired by the season, invigorated and come to life with the spirit of withering, decaying finery, the press of LongNight grinding at their bones, the chilling wind, the noxious plumes, the decadence instigated and agitated. “Most of the time people use them for games. Or just destroy them.” One of her hands went to scratch the top of Fangorn’s head. “I happened upon him at the end of the season. He was one of the last.” To endure, to persevere, and her hurt had gone out for a fellow survivor. “I offered him some meat, and he stayed.” She shrugged; simple, not a complex bond to start.

As for a positive life, she didn’t proffer any other extended comment but a bright, ebullient smile, a nod to hasten agreement. There were times where she’d orchestrated the very same. There were times when she did naught but sink into her despair, her melancholy, her grief.

She wasn’t certain about the monsters lingering beneath the bridge, fathoms deep – hadn’t met the ones during LongNight except by rumor or story, and it was much the same as the rumored ones down below. “I don’t know. I would think so, only because the LongNight ones are restricted to that time of year.” Her fingers flourished another set of antlers on her drawn luxere, so that it seemed far more mythical, far more regal, far more powerful and potent, imaginary, no beast capable of carrying such a crown.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Melita hadn’t meant to insinuate anything other than idle curiosity, her eyes flickering to his. It was too bad the Abandoned didn’t get to experience those things – born the way they were, punished for the way magic contorted through their veins, out of their control. “But yes, you certainly have time.”
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
Blacksmith

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
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#13
OLIVER
Oh. Ohhh. No wonder why Oliver had never seen them before! He had completely missed them, arriving most likely weeks after Melita had met her devilish companion. The look of realization was clear on Oliver's face, his eyes were wide and he looked like he had just discovered why it rained or something. "I arrived during Deepfrost, so I missed all of this." It sounded very strange to brutally murder these creatures, even when he had no trust in the thing. Couldn't they do something more humane? "So...can he talk? What kinda companion is he?" Oliver knew the unicorns could heal, so what could he do? Or was he more like a scary fish that kinda just sat there, staring into your soul.

The frown reappeared on Oliver's face, him looking away. "So...the only thing preventing them from killing us right now...is the fact that it's daylight out?" Oliver would make a mental note to never come here after dark if that was the case. He wasn't in the mood to have his eyeballs ripped out of his skull or to lose his very life. There were too many things for him to lose by this point, too many relationships he had formed by now. He had so many plans and...and he couldn't just throw it away due to a stupid mistake like that.

Things only seemed to get more negative as Melita was now apologizing to him, only kind of solidifying the fact that many people did view him as cursed. Great. It was a much better outlook than the one that Phoebe provided, at the very least. "Yeah...I mean, if you had asked me weeks ago, I probably would be upset, but I'm alright with it now. It'll be alright. The gods know what they're doing...and maybe it's just not in my path to meet them." Maybe I can still do great things without the gods ever even acknowledging me.
i just want my existance to be
more than trembling
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
#14
MELITA
“We have a connection. So in a way, he talks. But mostly to me. Or in grunts, hisses, and growls.” She laughed again, her eyes soft as she gazed upon the cretin, the creature, their forged bonds just as much a part of her as the sun, as the wind, as the sky. The youth wasn’t certain about powers, however; the gourd had always been helpful to her, a capable, supportive little being in the midst of trials and tribulations. He’d leapt and bound towards the giant pumpkin brewing with blight, had distracted, had deterred, while they attempted to slay. He’d always been there, a solidified force in the back of her mind. “He’s very good at biting ankles,” she heralded with a grin, with a shrug instead, a light giggle triumphing through her chest and throat.

At the notion of monsters though, she could only shrug. She really didn’t know, combatting over the length of ignorance again. “Not necessarily. But maybe they’re sleeping now.” She winked, a light, minuet tease. The youth mostly figured they weren’t irritating whatever lurked below, in the midst, in the fog, and so they weren’t being viciously assaulted by claws, by teeth, by talons. “I’ll protect you if anything comes.” Another hum lingered in the promise and oath, thinking naught of the indication other than the weapons clinging to her back or beside her hands.

The Gods were fickle and capricious at best; Melita had experienced it throughout any of the lands she’d roamed within, from her birthplace, to the Rift with its false paragons and duplicitous means, and to here – even though her trust remained in Ludo. Her fingers absent-mindedly began to trace a new form in the mud, maneuvering away from the luxury's embellished antlers, and to an assemblage of familiar rags and shrouds. “I bet you will one day. And it will be wonderful! Just keep trying.”
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire


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