Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
There was a man staring up at the ship.
Melita had been back and forth, as she often was, readying the Ark with supplies, or shifting along the sands, pouring her heart and soul into brutal, barbaric movements that might shatter an opponent. With her staff in hand, she’d been inclined to wander near the massive wooden structure, and now, with Fangorn grumbling behind her, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Sometimes Naturals she’d yet to meet came forth to hold some discourse with Jack, but she didn’t recognize this one at all. Was he intending something dastardly upon a specious, unknowing, but formidable, crew? Or was this completely innocent? An arch to her brow indicated nothing, but the defiant little raise of her chin amplified her emboldened, audacious movements, striding beyond as if she belonged there (because she did), before turning her head over her shoulder. “Can I help you?” Not entirely warm, but borderline pleasant, brows neither furrowed nor lilting again; head tilted in a vague notion, but the youth was otherwise an impudent ruffian looking thing, as if the waves had tossed her back out.
Melita had been back and forth, as she often was, readying the Ark with supplies, or shifting along the sands, pouring her heart and soul into brutal, barbaric movements that might shatter an opponent. With her staff in hand, she’d been inclined to wander near the massive wooden structure, and now, with Fangorn grumbling behind her, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Sometimes Naturals she’d yet to meet came forth to hold some discourse with Jack, but she didn’t recognize this one at all. Was he intending something dastardly upon a specious, unknowing, but formidable, crew? Or was this completely innocent? An arch to her brow indicated nothing, but the defiant little raise of her chin amplified her emboldened, audacious movements, striding beyond as if she belonged there (because she did), before turning her head over her shoulder. “Can I help you?” Not entirely warm, but borderline pleasant, brows neither furrowed nor lilting again; head tilted in a vague notion, but the youth was otherwise an impudent ruffian looking thing, as if the waves had tossed her back out.
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
