MELITA
“A scythe,” the youth murmured, transfixed by the way the blade had been shaped and handled. It was not something she’d been accustomed to in either Helovia (too young, her mother would have had numerous scoldings haunting her ears for even thinking of going near one), or the Rift (where they made their own by the skin of their teeth, desperation, and the wilderness in their hearts). She inspected it up close, impressed with its serrated edges, with the notion of cutting with two instead of one. “Very nice.” Approval already, for fellow warriors and those with a penchant towards irreverent things. Her head tilted, contemplating, while Fangorn hovered from nearby, potentially apprehensive, concerned, or simply rummaging around looking for favorite insects. “I’m not sure my staff could hold up to it though.” She’d love to train with such an object, but didn’t have anything worth its weight or upheaval; unaware that Ludo had made the dark wood nearly unbreakable, and not keen to try it out, risking damage or distortion to a worthy artifact in its own right. Perhaps they could find something they were both accustomed to; her eyes sweeping to the numerous other offerings amongst the armory or outside stalls.help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
