MELITA
She hummed cone more, a shrug in her shoulders, incapable of answering the first statement – for the girl hadn’t set her eyes upon any of the others, save for maybe a few at random events, but never close enough to hear them talk, to listen for intonations, to watch for altered expressions. While he presided and mused, her eyes drifted along the labyrinthine fog of the bone bridge, glancing into the abyss, and then back again as more inquiries were presented. This time he asked about failures though, which had been an ever-present thing in her life well before other gods, other lands, other kingdoms. Her little hums ceased though, memories reflecting over the days she’d melded and kneeled beside the shrine to no answers, to the vacant, hollowed portions of the earth, where sometimes she’d just reacted with understanding, and others with sobs, wreckage in her lungs. “I’ve had my fair share of failures too. Sometimes they were busy. Sometimes they were…grounded?” Was that the right word or connotation? She wasn’t certain, and couldn’t really share much more than that; not when Ludo hadn’t been forthcoming, nor needed to be. It likely wasn’t any of her business at all. “My offerings were still taken though, usually.” As if savored in the aftermath, thankful, despite the inability to come.She's so hard to please
But she's a forest fire
But she's a forest fire
