MELITA
Faithful Fangorn, an absolute delight even in the darkest of times, loosened a hissing cackle from his grumbling existence before tumbling back towards Melita – proud of his efforts. She took the opportunity to scratch him on the head for a job well done, a distraction while their combatant was layered with muck and filth. Beautiful, really, a rendition of magnificent opuses and canvases.She didn’t try to stifle her laughter there either, wiping away the tears collecting in her eyes, her chuckles ringing in pure, ridiculous, asinine bliss; barely even seeing him rise from the fallen void. Fangorn’s shrieks were the only warning he received, and likely too little too late; she darted on a gasp, shirking the stranger’s mighty touch to the right, but her hair not so lucky. Splattered and coated in the mire, she was entirely indifferent to its saddened, soused mess, since it was usually caked in something worse (blood, sometimes paint), It oozed and coiled amongst the crimson curls, and she didn’t care, rising from the challenge, streaking away, away, away, striving to get better access to another maneuvering blob, grabbing hold of it in her hands and then tossing it over her shoulder – not much aim on the grandeur of laughter again.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
