MELITA
Surprise me was a challenge; except Melita’s lack of experience, a blunt sway of ignorance, choked and strangled the possibility. She’d been hesitant to leave the realm of her training, a note of apprehension in the unknown, take a risk never having to be a command though. Her eyes flicked to Weaver’s indicated, open sides, but chafed, growled, bristled, and hissed inwardly at being told what to do. A perplexity in movement and motion; when she’d come here for training. Melita thought nothing of the bizarre standards she’d orchestrated for herself.So instead of catching, of matching Weaver’s blade this time, the girl skittered off to the left side, trying to get away, away, away – intending to utilize speed, swiftness, her lithe distinction, to her advantage. Then she raised her blade, not to Weaver’s ribs, or shoulders, but towards her back.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
