[se] wasn't born to be soft and quiet

but there's chaos brewing

underneath my skin

Her hands weren’t soft or gentle, too many grasps of bows, of strings, of staffs, calloused as well. Strong, dependable; a matching grin settling over her face. Convincing her to join the Ark had been relatively simple and easy: Sunjata had his own trials, tribulations, and dramatics; something she either didn’t want to mire, involve, or get immersed within, and what else was out there for her? The Monster Hunter’s Guild was run by someone she detested, and companions, friends, seemed all the more scattered. So she shrugged, the easygoing smile still there. “Just seemed like a place where I could belong.”

Then she was led, Fangorn and Melita following Saiden’s footsteps, eyes widening, taking in every sight, striving to memorize lines of wood, of string, of things placed in corners. But then she was forced to pay attention to the lifting hatch, and the ladder revealed below the door. Adjusting her essentials, grabbing hold of Fangorn in one hand, she used the other to ensure they went down safely, and when they reached the bottom, allowed her eyes to adjust before roaming further. Bunks, where some things were kept, and some empty, hollow. Something drifted over her – a late, lonely call of homesickness or nostalgia, before she wandered forth, towards one closer to the back.

trying to hold in the storm

instead of making waves

MELITA