MELITA
“Just a few more rounds,” came the sneaky, voracious grin, the notion of taking, taking, taking in all its avarice. For experience, for demolition, until the void finally caught up to her. But there was no persecution to be found in her stance, and she watched, waited, inspecting her leg, presuming the bright, bruising hues would soon be upon her – marked and etched in her glory. “I’m okay. I’ve had far worse.” The smile remained, but nothing else stated; naught about the scar puckered and distorted down the length of her spine, that webbed outwards in lightning strikes, vivid reminders of when she wasn’t enough. She took the offered flask though, sipping down several swallows, before handing it back to him. “Thank you.” The youth inhaled, a deep, long breath, pressing weight down on her injured limb, deciding it could bear a couple more woven barbarities.
At his signal then, she launched again, not as fast, not as swift, but certainly as wild – aiming for her hilt to be thrust into his left shoulder.
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
