MELITA
Fangorn was content to continue the grumbling and bleating conversation, conveniently trying to ignore the bristling accord settling in along his bonded. More than once he glanced upwards to find an unsettled, rapacious looking grin postured across her features – and inwardly he was either gearing up for some kind of fight, or just preparing for an inevitable onslaught of terror and ridiculousness. If vampire gourds could roll their eerie eyes, he would’ve. The girl snorted, walking along, intentionally not looking at him – her tone indicating the lightest amount of menace, of malice, simpering and slinking within. “From what? Your cheating?” Her ego hadn’t been mangled or maligned – but her temper had unfurled; stone golems breaking bones when staffs weren’t enough to render her into the ground. The honeybee child, for all her compassion, for all her willingness to assist others, held grudges hard. One would only have to look towards Kiada to watch it rapidly unleashed. “I don’t have to resort to those tactics.”
She wasn’t impressed – it was true enough. Her opinion really didn’t matter either. Neither of them would hold high regard for one another; stupidity, mercurial whims, and tempestuous edges had cast them both in a less than effervescent light. So she didn’t answer his rather rhetorical remarks, bending down to inspect wares as they passed, making light of the situation, as if nothing more than the ether or wind. “What’s your position?” Jester?
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
