Training the wolves will always call you back
For Nate!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
They had to be better, stronger, defiant against the rest of the world. Situations, circumstances, and latest events had been bewildering, stupefying, and downright absurd on the best of days – and those were far behind them. Peace amidst Torchline hadn’t been there from the beginning, but now it spiraled in convoluted sections, pissing contests back and forth between Ark members and government officials, and unfortunately she knew both sides well. But a majority of the issues would be setting sail soon, herself included, with some remaining behind – and she was nervous, apprehensive, for Nate and Sunjata, to have to contend with things without her.

So she’d already formulated some targets and bullseyes in the yard behind their designated home, before the maneuvering, wide-open sea, the backdrop of the setting sun applicable for the Ascended’s weakness towards the light. The marks were a little haphazard, drawn together on rocks or stacks of wood, but they’d do the job – on various levels of difficulty, the first being the closest, the second in the middle, and the third a long range away from her formulated area.

The youth had her own bow and her preferred arrows, and she’d acquired one in the market specifically for Nate, presuming he’d need a larger armament. Some training arrows were nestled in a quiver just for him, and the honeybee child took her time, assembling everything for when he was ready.
Melita
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
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#2
- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
It felt like he had so little time lately, and so many things to do, days filling up far quicker than Nate expected, with the coming monsoon season, and wedding plans and injuries and a dozen other smaller threads, unravelling him slowly but surely. He could pull himself together for a few things, Melita high on the list, especially considering the fact that she would be leaving soon, sailing out to sea. As much time as she had to spare, he would fill.

"Damn, you really went all out, lil 'Lita." Nate rumbles with a grin as he steps out into the setting sun, a hand lifting to shield his remaining eye from the last few sinking rays. The amount of work she's put in is surprising, but at the same time not at all, knowing the passion she held for such things. It inspires him to straighten up a little, prepared to take this a touch more seriously.

A hand reaches out for the bow almost as soon as he sees it, the arrows ignored for the moment in favour of plucking at the string, like he had any kind of idea what he was doing, what he was looking for. "So where do we start?" Nate asks, turning all of his focus to Melita, the corners of his lips tipped up in an almost smile.
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#3
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
The Ascended, but favored uncle, was given a brief snort at his ‘lil’ comment, but she shook it off, choosing not to be rankled and irritated so easily, not when she had precious moments left with them before the season drew her out across the waves. Her eyes went to the assemblage before them, and then to Nate snagging at the bow automatically. “First, we wrap up your arm.” And though he wouldn’t be able to feel pain, inexperience would still cut up his skin when the string rubbed against it. “You don’t need any.other injuries.” Her eyes went to him briefly, a dare for the man to refute the claim, and then donned some linen around the chosen arm.

Next, she took up her own bow, the weight familiar, lovely, attuned in her hands. “Now, you hold it like this.” She demonstrated, arm out straight, while the other grabbed hold of the string, pulling it taut. He wouldn’t be receiving any arrows just yet – not until she was certain he could handle pulling the string without snapping it back on himself. Her gaze and nod thereafter indicated his opportunity to try, and then waited patiently for him to follow along.
Melita
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
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#4
- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
Nate can’t help a bright grin at the disapproving snort, glad he has status enough to not get an earful for it. He attempts a quick twirl of the bow, fumbles it, and tries to set the bow down and follow her example in a smooth distracting movement. ”Wrap up the arm.” Comes the loud repetition, the silent plea of don’t say anything. All Nate can offer in response to her words is agreement, an amused and aggrieved huff. ”We most certainly do not.”

When he snaps his own bow back up, Nate is far more careful with it, his hand firm and steady. A studious eye moves over his fiery haired nieces stance, then he shifts to replicate it, arm out straight, his other hand coming up to pull the string back. When Nate’s certain he’s copied her perfectly, a triumphant grin crests his face.”Alright, what next?”
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#5
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
She had half a notion to glare at him for twirling a bow; some amount of respect deserved for a weapon, for an armament, but watching him fumble it made up for the ridiculous action. Instead, her eyes watched his movement, correcting his stance when necessary, and then applying back to her own modeling, composing and constructing her legs properly, grounding them into the earth, spine upright, rigid, tall, enduring, and strong. She pulled the bow string again, ensuring an arrow was notched for demonstration purposes. “When you aim, it’s not with the bow. Use your eye, and the arrow will follow.”

Familiar, attuned, accomplished with the favored mechanism, she did just as she’d instructed – lining her gaze up with the first, and closest target. It wouldn’t be a difficult mark, but she wanted to properly show exactly what she’d meant. In a flurry, in a rush, the string was released, sending the arrow ricocheting across the slowly darkening grounds, landing squarely in the middle with an audible snap.

A pleased smile on her face, she turned back to Nate, extending a training arrow in her hand (the end blunted, obviously meant to convey some safety provisions with novices), towards the Ascended. “You try!”
Melita
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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MP: 0
#6
- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
The corrections are accepted without question, Nate holding the pose for a moment, memorizing it, before snorting softly at the piece of advice. "Use my eye." Nate hummed, nodding his understanding, and mumbling "Which one?" under his breath, a joke he's not quite ready to commit to yet. Straightening out of the firing stance, he turned to watch the arrow Melita fired off, taking careful note of how exactly she moved, how she loosed the projectile, how it flew truly into it's target, the noise of it drowned out by an impressed whistle from Nate.

He can do that.

The offered arrow is accepted, the stance taken again, the mistakes Melita had corrected earlier kept in mind. It feels a little easier to get into the proper position, with the arrow actually in place. Nate aims, making a handful of small shifts, then goes still, save for the fingers that release the arrow. Though he needs no breath, there is still a moment of breathless anticipation as the bolt flies through the air, past the intended target on it's right side, a rather less impressive plink sounding as it landed on the ground. Shrugging upright again, Nate stared after his missed shot, defeat bowing his shoulders.

"Fuck." The word leaves him softly. "I'll get that." He offers, running to do just that, before returning to his niece's side, errant arrow now clutched tightly in hand.
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#7
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
She paid no heed to the joke, uncertain if she should smirk at a time like this, where his eye had yet to be mended, or brush it all aside. The youth chose the latter, holding her bow while she watched Nate take up the mantle, following the instructions she’d laden before him. Her gaze was careful, pinpointed, serious, an alteration from the normal emboldened, impetuous interludes, striving to decipher movements, motions, and correct them again if need be.

But he tried – and her stare followed the arrow as it slid and cut through the air, cleanly, sharply, before descending into the ground.

She saw the defeat in his shoulders, the layers of failure, and thought about furrowing her brow in exasperation. Nate would need to snag some grit and mettle of his own, if he was ever going to accomplish beyond here and now. But she’d been there before too – after piles of sticks, stones, broken quivers, snapped strings, pondering why she was bothering. The fire in her soul had grappled hard with the sunken soullessness, until defiance rang its doldrums, and she’d sunk herself into the earth, fervent for another fray. “That’s okay,” she answered instead, a soft smile making its way over her mouth; a reassurance of strength, fortitude, and shared experiences. “I hardly ever hit when I started.” And there'd been far more at stake. A shrug to her shoulders, an indication for him to loosen up, take the failures for what they were – opportunities to learn, grow, and savor. “You’re just beginning, and being close to the target is a step in the right direction.”

The youth went to demonstrate again. “Watch my stance.” Straight, poised, she inclined her feet into the ground, allowing her weight to disperse. “Take a breath.” Even if he didn’t need to, it was the feeling of anticipation. “Pull back.” The band was taut in her grip, a familiar friend, ready and willing to be unfurled. “Release.” The arrow skimmed forward, fast, swift, slashing, lacerating along the atmosphere, and once more settling its way into the target.

She turned back towards the Ascended, brow arching, but the grin still there. “Try again.”
Melita
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#8
- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
Despite the disappointment, the sting of failure, Nate can't let a frown cling to him, not in the face of the enthusiasm and encouragement that pours from his niece. He wonders, briefly, where that strength, that kindness came from, knowing the little he did of her past, and decides pretty quick that it doesn't matter near as much as being in this moment with her does. Shoulders slump, relaxing a touch, and he offers his own crooked smile back towards her. "It's been a while since I've had to practice something." Perhaps not the best admission to make, but at least it's honest. And it doesn't mean he isn't going to try again, that his spirit's broken by a single failure. Gods, he might have had a rough few weeks, but not that rough.

Nate doubles down on his efforts, watching and following along, sure that he was following the same steps, was bending himself in just the right ways to shoot as perfectly as Melita did, and yet. He relaxes as her arrow is loosed once again, as it buries into the target once again, all but effortlessly.

Second time around, feels very much like the first, Nate holding his arm out, bow clutched tightly in his hand, staring down the target. "Stance," a few minor adjustments, feet and arms shifting where they're slightly out of place, "breathe," a deep pull in through his nose, "pull," the right arm draws the arrow back, a final adjustment made before it's released, rushing through the air and only barely clipping the edge of the target, still too far right, and too low now as well.

Another displeased huff, but Nate seems happier with the second shot. Seems almost smug, when he turns back to Melita, his own brow arching as he waits for her (completely inevitable) critique.
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#9
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Melita wouldn’t know what it was like to not practice something – too much fire in her blood, in her veins, pulsing, pervading, until the restless energy could no longer be contained. She often reached for too many skies at once, but the youth had never been the sort of individual to remain listless and languid in her trainings. There’d always been danger, treachery, a slinking, primordial threat in the distance, and since her childhood she’d made certain she was well versed in various weaponry, tactics, and audacity. It had served her well, between monsters, creatures, and other moments, things, yet to come.

So she snorted at his insinuation, not overly impressed with the admission, and then watched again – already seeing a critical error as the arrow shot forward. Sure enough, it bounded along the fringes of the target, too low, too right. “You’re aiming from the front of your bow.” A common mistake, it would explain the drifting, and the girl stepped forward again, as Fangorn (with nothing else to do), went to retrieve the armament.

“With your eye, and hopefully the good one.” She winked, raising her bow aloft. “Watch.” The girl lined herself up with the goal again – snagging at one of her arrows along her quiver, notching it once more, and then lifting, ensuring that her aim was drawn from her gaze, and not the weapon itself. “Look straight ahead. See your goal.” A breath taken – a cool smirk embedding its way through her mouth. “Pretend it’s an enemy. Who would you want to destroy?” Then she released – not telling whom her imagined adversary was – as it snapped and zoomed, hitting the upper portion of the dummy this time; as if it were a throat, a neck, a nape.

Her grin deepened as she turned back toward him, and nodded. Fangorn brought forward the arrow, grumbling towards Nate, before settling back to his position along the grass. “Again.”
Melita
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#10
- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
At least there's some kind of clear error he's making, some error that can be refined, fixed, as long as it is pointed out by skilled eyes. Though, the explanation Nate receives for what exactly he's doing wrong leaves something to be desired. "I thought I was aiming with my eye?" Came the cheeky mumble, the difference not at all clear to him. It didn't really matter what he thought, because the fact of the matter was he was doing it wrong.

But he watched, again, focusing more now on Melita's gaze, her aiming, instead of the stance. Honestly, Nate still wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, but again her arrow struck true where he had still not managed it. The arrow was accepted graciously from Fangorn, and he looked down at the targets that had been set up again, sighing. Third time was the charm though, right?

Frustration was clear in his stance, in the way he arranged himself and drew taut, though the pause before firing was different this time. Nate ignores the instinct to use the bow to guide his shot, the same he would anything else that fires, and instead focuses on the target. Focuses on seeing a face there instead, the same one he always imagined when it came to things like this, though other, more recent events had other candidates coming to mind too.

This time, when the arrow looses, it lands with a thunk in the target, between the imagined eyes, and a sharp grin crosses Nate's face, quiet satisfaction leaking from him, at least until he lowers the bow and looks across at Melita. The mischievous look is the only warning she'll get before he steps over and lifts her in a one armed hug, twirling her around. "Look at that!"
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#11
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
Ah, perhaps all he needed was the right motivation.

The thunk upon the target was met with absolute esteem for the Ascended, grin drawn in irreverent glimmers and mischief. “Look at that, indeed,” she echoed, glancing at it with satisfaction. Then she was immediately scooped up in a hug, and laughter peeled away from her as she fought her way back down. “Okay, don’t get too carried away! It was one arrow!” The giggles continued while Fangorn took up his role again, fetching and returning, and the youth could return to the ground.

“Let’s up the ante,” she snickered, mostly to challenge him. The rules would still be the same, and she followed through on the similar aspects, only she chose the middle target this time. Farther away, several yards more, it’d test to see if he was truly understanding the basics, or he’d become extremely fortunate in his latest attempt. Lining up, facing her newfound opponent (imagining Kiada, perhaps, ready to be demolished for all of her past crimes), practice and precision ignited in her movements, reverberations of before – and the arrow flew, not quite into the bullseye, a little more off-center, but an audible snap just the same. “All right, you’re up.”
Melita
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#12
- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
”C’mon, dont say it like that.” Theres a pout, a hand coming up to clutch at his chest as if that’s where the arrow had pierced, instead of the target. ”It’s not one, it’s the first.” An important distinction, as far as Nate’s concerned. He does relinquish his hold on Melita though, not realizing how alike it would be to grabbing a cat unexpectedly, all squirming to be put down, despite the giggles.

The challenge in her words is obvious, and while normally Nate would fee hard pressed to believe he could challenge the far more accomplished archer, he was riding on the high of success. There’s an almost impatient energy to Nate now as he watches Melita line up her shot and fire again, awaiting his turn to straighten up, to draw.

And he does, the motion smoother, quicker now, repetition breeding comfort, though the same cannot be said for his sighting, the moment spent taking aim at the imagined enemy. Nate is happy with his aim after a breath, releasing his own arrow into the shadows, and whooping anew when the thunk of success echoes dully. ”Easy.” He brags, now that he has the trick of it, though there is room for refinement, the arrow low under the bullseye.
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#13
Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
The youth had known the measures of confidence, and the distinction of arrogance; and she snorted at the man’s predilections for easy, watching as the arrow hit, but well under the bullseye. “Congratulations, you’ve hit them in the leg.” Not a kill-shot, not clean and straight forward, invoking the struggle, the potential for the opponent to come back, to seek vengeance. “Now they can hit you in return.” She shook her head, a whirlwind of folly and mischief, crimson hair following suit in a curtain of red. There’d be no blood spilled here today, but that was what they were aiming, striving, and attempting for – to ensure success through repetition, and muscle memory, so there’d be no need for the distinctions, for fumbling around, when reality struck.

“Okay, last challenge then.” And she maneuvered towards the last target, lining herself up, poised for the foretold predilection. The expanse was vast and wide now, no middle ground or position for error; too much space for an arrow to pummel and hit the plains. This time, for a good show, she selected the electric armament from her quiver; listened to the snap, the crackling, the sizzling of pulsing vehemence. “The same rules always apply.” A calm, assured demeanor, weight in her feet, proper stance coordinated all the more. “Don’t let the further distance intimidate you.” Let nothing stand in your way. No careening monsters, no assailing opponents, no behemoth adversaries could stop and cease the girl, and she wouldn’t expect it of him either.

She released the string, heard the scorching, blistering, scathing sounds gain momentum in the air, and ultimately slide its thwarting dominion into the target, just outside the bullseye. Perhaps it didn’t matter, with the power gnawing and gnashing its way through the wood – marking, charring, and releasing its emblems. With an uncanny smile, she turned back towards Nate, hand extending, frame maneuvering out of the way so he could take his shot.
Melita
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#14
- NATE -
Why you don't got any questions?
How you know that this is real?
Nate winces as his shot hits low, as Melita tells him exactly how ineffective the shot was. "Good thing I'm still learning then, right?" It's a small consolation, an attempt at humour, stymied by the reality described, when this is supposed to be an effective defence for him. "I'll aim higher next time." While he still has the chance to learn.

The electric arrow is more than impressive, the crackling drawing Nate's eye long before it is actually released, the storm literally held in Melita's hands, ready to unleashed on some unsuspecting enemy, some opponent who's misstepped worse than they would ever be able to anticipate. "I'll get it." Nate promises, rising to the challenge, or at least taking his best running leap at it. "I'll just do exactly as you do." The tail end of his words is nearly cut off by snap of her arrow, the crackling as it flew through the air and landed firmly in the dummy.

Which meant it was his turn. All he could do was his best, use the basics he'd been taught and hope that they could be enough. Nate steps into position, takes aim, takes his breath, and aims just a touch higher than he thinks he needs to. Then, he releases it, and watches, breath held, for all the good it does. The arrow still strikes low, but it's within the painted target, thunking into a blackened knot of wood and holding fast.
I am feeling such oppression
You can't tell me how to feel


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