Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
The voices, the flickerings of decibels between the dolls, caught her shaking her head, but never quite muffling her laughter. Oh, they could’ve stayed out of the water, but then there wouldn’t be a point to their sojourns and travels – sailors and smugglers without work. So she giggled, intertwined and entertained amongst the notions, the images of playing fetch or launching over massive whales, any measure of apprehension stifled to nothingness – content and comfortable within the silliness, the movement and motion of rags, of things and notions she’d strived to understand.
As for what the youth wanted to do with the irritating creatures? She’d strived to siege and assault with no such luck, and in all honesty, she wasn’t out along the seas to mutilate and desecrate those who belonged there. Just to give the Ark a chance, an opportunity, to do something other than become their victims time and time again. So it didn’t take long for her brow to unfurrow in thought, lifting her head back up to address the herald. “Deter them.” Though the notion of catching and subsequently riding them made her eyes widen (because she hadn’t thought of that, and despite the deadly, treacherous danger and likelihood of anyone attempting it posturing to a certain death, the suggestion still had an air of enticement). More inquiries, more questions, more possibilities ran rampant instead, the blossom of a grin angling along her mouth. “Would there be a way to shield the Ark from them?” So they weren’t known, seen, heard, or noticed?
As for what the youth wanted to do with the irritating creatures? She’d strived to siege and assault with no such luck, and in all honesty, she wasn’t out along the seas to mutilate and desecrate those who belonged there. Just to give the Ark a chance, an opportunity, to do something other than become their victims time and time again. So it didn’t take long for her brow to unfurrow in thought, lifting her head back up to address the herald. “Deter them.” Though the notion of catching and subsequently riding them made her eyes widen (because she hadn’t thought of that, and despite the deadly, treacherous danger and likelihood of anyone attempting it posturing to a certain death, the suggestion still had an air of enticement). More inquiries, more questions, more possibilities ran rampant instead, the blossom of a grin angling along her mouth. “Would there be a way to shield the Ark from them?” So they weren’t known, seen, heard, or noticed?
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
