Aurelia
and that the world is always our fault
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?
when we did nothing, how did we do wrong?
Melita's admittance of using the bow for a long time made Aurelia wonder at why, though she didn't feel so bold as to ask. It was quite obvious that neither of them had the easiest paths in life to lead them here, where the journey ahead of them was shrouded by the great unknown. Their demeanors were hardened by years of strife, whether it was a similar history or not didn't matter. Aurelia felt empathy for the distant look on Melita's face - brief as it was, she noticed it.
Fangorn grumbled from somewhere on the sidelines and Aurelia let out a soft huff of laughter, a break from her ever-brewing, deep thoughts, "Hey- What do you call him?" She arched curious eyebrows at Melita with her question, "or her. I can't really tell, sorry."
Aurelia wasn't sure what to make of the mischievous undertone of Melita's words. She hung back as the other woman turned away to approach a pile of assorted things, some of them looked like weapons. But, after a moment's consideration, she gave in and followed. Surprise was evident in the wrinkling of her forehead, a question in her eyes as if to say, 'wait, really?' Her hand reached up to accept the bow.
"No, my-" she stifled the words that caught in her throat, pushing down the memory that tore, that bloomed, that wilted. She blinked, her throat rumbling as she cleared it. Remnants of emotions over a past life darkened her eyes but, she shook her head and it was gone, "I've never used one."
She fumbled with the weapon at first, turning her face away from Melita's burning, golden eyes. Remembering how she'd handled the bow only moments prior, Aurelia tried to replicate it. She could try to emanate the sharp posture and steady grip of someone that had spent years to perfect their form. She would fall short, however, with uneven shoulders and an even worse grip.
This newness to a weapon was unfamiliar; she stuck to what she knew - the blade. Which explained why she was so cautiously wading through these new 'waters', whereas if Melita had handed her a blade, she'd be making quick work of the wooden Sunjata dummy. A muddled frown disgraced her soft facial features and she looked back at Melita for guidance. "How's this?"
Fangorn grumbled from somewhere on the sidelines and Aurelia let out a soft huff of laughter, a break from her ever-brewing, deep thoughts, "Hey- What do you call him?" She arched curious eyebrows at Melita with her question, "or her. I can't really tell, sorry."
Aurelia wasn't sure what to make of the mischievous undertone of Melita's words. She hung back as the other woman turned away to approach a pile of assorted things, some of them looked like weapons. But, after a moment's consideration, she gave in and followed. Surprise was evident in the wrinkling of her forehead, a question in her eyes as if to say, 'wait, really?' Her hand reached up to accept the bow.
"No, my-" she stifled the words that caught in her throat, pushing down the memory that tore, that bloomed, that wilted. She blinked, her throat rumbling as she cleared it. Remnants of emotions over a past life darkened her eyes but, she shook her head and it was gone, "I've never used one."
She fumbled with the weapon at first, turning her face away from Melita's burning, golden eyes. Remembering how she'd handled the bow only moments prior, Aurelia tried to replicate it. She could try to emanate the sharp posture and steady grip of someone that had spent years to perfect their form. She would fall short, however, with uneven shoulders and an even worse grip.
This newness to a weapon was unfamiliar; she stuck to what she knew - the blade. Which explained why she was so cautiously wading through these new 'waters', whereas if Melita had handed her a blade, she'd be making quick work of the wooden Sunjata dummy. A muddled frown disgraced her soft facial features and she looked back at Melita for guidance. "How's this?"
and I've been thinking that when we thought
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong
the world would break us, that we weren't wrong
