[Training] no one told you to breathe

MELITA

Melita placed the daggers back where they belonged, one along her calf, one along her belt of further accessories and dominion. Perhaps it went without saying that she wanted proficiency with all of them: weapon after weapon, armament after armament, siege after siege. So the world wouldn’t even stop to think she was unworthy, not potent, not powerful enough. A combatant, a fighter, a strong, unyielding, lithe little force of nature, adversary to those who would dare cross her, or any of her kin.

She’ll make them proud – every ancestor, every contortion of her lineage carved into her bones.

The youth beamed in reflection of his smile, scratching at the top of Fangorn’s head as the gourd noticed the fight was over, silenced and ceased for another day. “Maybe I can bring some back with me,” she shrugged, insinuating there might be more than just traversing over the great, grand seas, adventure calling her over the air and waves. She took the offered glass, downing and draining. Swallow after swallow to sate the thirst after measures of fortitude and might. “You too.” Be better; but most importantly, be careful.

help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts