MELITA
First bows and weapons between onslaughts of moments: Melita’s initials ones had been sticks and stones, hurtling at monsters, at demons, at claws slinking and serpentining towards loved ones. She didn’t say anything to these amounts of events or dominions, listening to Maea’s untimely series of circumstances, and how the bow had fell into the depths of the sea, left to linger too long in its mighty abyss. But no remarks remained from her details and parameters, contemplating with a furrowed brow, eyes still lingering on the weapon as she went to hand it back – still treating it with the reverent, gentle care it deserved. She nearly mentioned her own bow, the bracelet it was forged within, just an imaginary pull and tug of strings, a gift from Arduinna, one of the Fae now sacrificed amongst and amidst the forest – and then she shrugged off the notion, just delivering a nod instead.The honeybee child tilted her head a fraction in confusion at the latter statement. “I’m always willing to train.” Besting the pale woman might not have been a feat – however, the emboldened, overly confident girl was always honed in on the temptation of beating, pulverizing, and growing better, stronger, to be the bigger monster across either seas, woods, or fields. But it was the notion of Maea keeping Sunjata’s time and attention away from her that perplexed; the man was capable of his own decisions, had sewn his own accord. Perhaps Melita could blame the pair equally, snarl and sneer in both of their directions - unfair to always be left behind.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
