but there's chaos brewing
underneath my skin
Describe the man she’d met – she raised her hand several inches above her. “About this tall, bronze hair, blue eyes,” tilting her head for a moment, striving to conjure anything else remarkable about that particular evening. “Probably drunk.” Which, unfortunately, might be able to describe a series of individuals along these lands. Maybe, if she didn’t give the right or accurate details, she wouldn’t be allowed on. Apprehension curled its way through her gut, but she refused to let it flicker along her face.
Instead, his grin eventually matched hers with discussion of cannons, her voice an ebullient, effervescent chime, as if readily able and ready to apply vehemence and disaster at any given moment. “No, but I’m willing to learn!” The blast of vitriol and vehemence was right up her alley; naught said of the fire-laden arrows along the quiver settled upon her back.
Instead, his grin eventually matched hers with discussion of cannons, her voice an ebullient, effervescent chime, as if readily able and ready to apply vehemence and disaster at any given moment. “No, but I’m willing to learn!” The blast of vitriol and vehemence was right up her alley; naught said of the fire-laden arrows along the quiver settled upon her back.
trying to hold in the storm
instead of making waves
MELITA
