Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Succumbed again, and maybe she should’ve been used to that, to the weight and bombardment of failure. He sunk as she came down, and then she could feel him bunch up, coiled, contorted, like a spring; a mistake, a mishap she hadn’t calculated (or thought over at all, really). And sure enough, despite all her power and glory and might, she was sent flailing (if a fist or foot connected with him, it’d be out of luck and fortune), back into the water, plunging below the surf once more.
The urge to pout beneath the waves was an absolute certainty, a grinding, grasping thing behind her eyes, down the lines of her brows. But instead she rose her way back to the surface, trying not to hiss and spit like an irritated cat. Done in, tired, exhausted, fatigued, and completely out of her element (perhaps that was the most disappointing of all; despite effort after effort, there was always some mastery she was lacking, and she hadn’t thought it’d be within the water), the youth sighed, pushing crimson locks back out of her face. “Thank you,” signaling she was over it, unsettled, rattled, consumed. “You’ve given me a lot more to practice on.”
The urge to pout beneath the waves was an absolute certainty, a grinding, grasping thing behind her eyes, down the lines of her brows. But instead she rose her way back to the surface, trying not to hiss and spit like an irritated cat. Done in, tired, exhausted, fatigued, and completely out of her element (perhaps that was the most disappointing of all; despite effort after effort, there was always some mastery she was lacking, and she hadn’t thought it’d be within the water), the youth sighed, pushing crimson locks back out of her face. “Thank you,” signaling she was over it, unsettled, rattled, consumed. “You’ve given me a lot more to practice on.”
Melita
