MELITA
Another approached – not a surprise, based on the barrack intervals and necessities. They all wanted to be better, wanted to prove themselves, wanted to be stronger since the fallout of the festival, since everything else always managed to flicker back into hell. Melita figured she’d be left alone to her own devices, and the other woman would wander over to her desired efforts. Instead though, she seemed to slink towards the honeybee child, and Melita was forced to snag her attention away from potent swings, a snort unfurling through her nares. Because she wasn’t inexperienced, because she’d been through multitudes of fury and might, and come out on the other side. “Oh, I’m aware,” a wolfish, rapacious grin followed, swinging her staff so that it leaned across her shoulder, familiar and at home. “I’ve had many.” Not too be underestimated, despite her stature, despite her sunshine radiance and her effervescent glow.
Then her stare went to the munitions in clutches – unfamiliar, not something she’d been privy to see in Helovia, the Rift, or otherwise. Her head tilted, a quick perusal and study. “Nice weapon. What is it?” Curiosity amongst and amidst the earth, introductions coursing through, like customary fissures and faultlines. “I’m Melita.”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
