knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
Her first poster relatively complete, she studied it for a moment, before putting the paper aside, placing it on a nearby table. She fumbled with a few sheets of paper, before making another similar sketch to the first, rough lines of Sunjata’s head, only this time instead of the overly-embellished nose, his smile had a few missing teeth. While she worked, she listened again, tilting her head vaguely, a shrug to her shoulders as he seemed to be swallowing down a multitude of emotions. “Mhm.” To both inquiries; she presumed – though she hadn’t seen either of them in danger lately. Were there hints of treachery lingering, loitering, beneath, she hadn’t been aware of? Melita collected the nuances of information, miniscule and simplistic at best, into the back of her mind, to savor, ponder, and investigate later.
Her eyes went to him, arching a brow at how the man seemed to practically wilt before her. “So I’ll ask you again – is there something dangerous about Nate?” If she was supposed to be pulling the daggers against the Ascended now; a confliction, a juxtaposition, perpendicular sketches crossing this way and that. Her own experiences quantified something, but so did Kellan’s.
Fangorn remained a steady distraction though, as he ambled along her paper, instructing for deeper charcoal marks where Sunjata’s incisors were mysteriously absent. “I’ve seen him eat a lot of bugs.” Another shrug, though the inklings of a devilish grin began to warp along her lips, as her gaze went back to her artwork. “Most of his kind prefer blood.”
Her eyes went to him, arching a brow at how the man seemed to practically wilt before her. “So I’ll ask you again – is there something dangerous about Nate?” If she was supposed to be pulling the daggers against the Ascended now; a confliction, a juxtaposition, perpendicular sketches crossing this way and that. Her own experiences quantified something, but so did Kellan’s.
Fangorn remained a steady distraction though, as he ambled along her paper, instructing for deeper charcoal marks where Sunjata’s incisors were mysteriously absent. “I’ve seen him eat a lot of bugs.” Another shrug, though the inklings of a devilish grin began to warp along her lips, as her gaze went back to her artwork. “Most of his kind prefer blood.”
Melita
