a lion-hearted girl
Melita too had long since lost her shoes – an adaptable trait from where she’d been born, and where she lived now – racing across the terrain with ambition and fire, plunging her staff into the target. It stung into the immobile effigy with an audible notion, the strength, the perseverance, behind its mustering a savage little squall; she would’ve howled into the thrashing aspirations had she been alone.Instead, once her assaults had begun, subsequent, quick, flashing maneuvers, there was another voice – and upon completing a satisfying volley, a round where her hands held and scorched and lit a flame in her soul, her head turned in the direction. Aurelia – asking why she was embroiled in this churning, burning realm. “Ghost whales. LongNight. Anything and everything.” She shrugged, figuring she’d encompass and embody all of it – muster the accord of defiance and sedition, pour all the frustrations into the earth, feel better unleashing her incensed rage upon an effigy, rather than an individual.
Except, apparently, Aurelia welcomed an onslaught. The honeybee snorted, and Fangorn grumbled a warning – to either figure, perhaps. “That’d be an unfortunate bet for you.” You'll lose. A proud smirk fastened itself upon her mouth; instigated, riled, leading ember for ember. It was probably very stupid.
So the girl rushed; fast and swift, quick and rapid, keeping the staff tucked against her ribs, until she believed she was close enough, before swinging, launching, towards the girl’s side.
ready for a fight
MELITA
