[SE] high and flighty

MELITA

“One can dream then.” She winked in response to his own, to the notions of other worlds, other places, other things unfolding and unfurling in front of them. Whether or not it would prove effective, worthwhile, was something to consider down the line – especially since they’d ventured into the Greatwood, helped mend the broken particles and treaties, only to have them rescinded, redacted, erased, fissured, and cracked away. What about these foretold mountains? Would the same happen – political and diplomatic endeavors rampaging down the lines?

Melita did manage another chuckle when Amun described his actions as mostly amusing himself – she could fathom and understand how he’d likely entangled himself into those things – and she probably did the same, bounding back and forth between danger and ruin, without forethought. Hers were impetuous, emboldened moments, streaked and elongated with audacity, a certain, keen sense of recklessness that spoke of children forced to grow up far too quickly. Her eyes brightened at the semblance and creation of a pottery studio, which seemed like it’d be a useful, practical, functional thing to have around Caido. But when he asked her, she didn’t have much to tell – a pattern of impulsive designs didn’t render much of anything but leaping into frays and fervors. “Oh, I mainly just…survive.” She shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “I like to hunt and fight, to defend others,” the effervescent pulse of her righteousness blossomed a little more along her presence. “I’m part of the Monster Hunter’s Guild too,” if that was bound to remain. Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t say anything more; configuring back into her previous motions, unwinding holes from the juncture of her staff’s force, applying it to three more holes.

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight