MELITA
Melita could be petty and vengeful – one only needed to either ask Loren or Kiada about those particular tendencies – but for a vast majority of the time she was also compassionate and bold, eager to help, to aid, to ensure others succeeded. She just didn’t know what to make of Oliver though; with his yearning to listen to the gods, but mostly only about his own endeavors or what he’d heard. He only asked her thereafter, and those spiteful granules in her mind threatened to sprout, to huff, to frown, or to simply amble off, leave him to his own devices or to wander off and ask someone else. She sighed though, because she should’ve been better than that.
“Well, the first time I met Ludo I’d prayed at their shrine. I’d prayed at several shrines, but never received any answers.” Presumed it was just happenstance, from her experiences, from the irreverence still clinging to her blood, from the way her worlds had continually been destroyed by the layers of an immortal’s machinations. “I asked if they could fix my staff.” Her eyes went to the beatific weapon, Siabrhan, coated in Wicker Woman enamel. “They sent me on a quest, which only went poorly at first because of my own blunders.” Like wandering straight into a void that didn’t possess any of what she needed, saved only by Remi’s generosity. “When I brought back what they asked for, they placed it upon my staff.”
Then she shrugged, because there had always been people doing far greater things than herself. “I’ve channeled them a couple times – I’m not sure if I can channel others. It’s a like a call for help, and only when I can’t do something for myself. Once was when I captured by a giant vampire gourd,” and here her grin became massive and devilish, insinuations of more of the pumpkin frivolities with larger consequences, “and they freed me from the vines.” Quite gracefully, generously. “And one other time when I thought someone was trying to steal from a creature.” Another shrug; it might have been on the edges of blight-infested rage too, but Ludo had still responded. “But I’ve also gone to a number of shrines with no answer. Sometimes they’re busy. Sometimes your request wasn’t enough.” What she believed, anyway. No one had really told her otherwise; speculations permitted, but no answers truly unraveled.
She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
But she's a forest fire
