Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Sometimes the repairs aboard the Ark hadn’t gone her way – brief flickers of memories in cloud wyrms (ones she thought adorable and the moments turning sour very, very quickly), and as she had no intention of dangling out along the thin air, or being exposed to something else seemingly innocent and then not, Melita worked with things she understood.
So far, so good (weird), and the youth took no issue in the laborious, heavy, grinding work of moving the cannonballs. Striving, trying, one by one, her muscles worked, grabbing hold of the ammunition, and making a pathway towards the armaments. Back and forth, forth and back, carried along the deck to their destination.
Then there was the cleaning – twisting, turning, ensuring nothing was caught or stuck within them. Fangorn grabbed hold of several rags and implements for her to utilize, and the honeybee ignored the dull ache in her arms.
--
Melita tries to move the cannonballs and clean the cannons!
So far, so good (weird), and the youth took no issue in the laborious, heavy, grinding work of moving the cannonballs. Striving, trying, one by one, her muscles worked, grabbing hold of the ammunition, and making a pathway towards the armaments. Back and forth, forth and back, carried along the deck to their destination.
Then there was the cleaning – twisting, turning, ensuring nothing was caught or stuck within them. Fangorn grabbed hold of several rags and implements for her to utilize, and the honeybee ignored the dull ache in her arms.
--
Melita tries to move the cannonballs and clean the cannons!
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
