Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
“It’s okay,” Melita shrugged, even though it really wasn’t. None of it pertained to Seren though, and she could be free of the guilt that might linger within. The honeybee spared her own too, because the youth still didn’t feel the least bit apologetic for the words that had spewed from her mouth. Vitriolic, perhaps, but something she believed they’d needed to hear. Just for once. Even if it didn’t sink in very far, even if it only scorched the surface.
Her eyes widened at the offer, but she shook her head. There was no need to dredge up or involve anyone else in the spree of stupidity. “That's very kind. Thank you, but I’ll be all right. If things get too bad, I’ll just stay in my room on the Ark.” For the most part, it was the overall discomfort in the house. Never really quite knowing where she was supposed to be, or go, or intertwine between all the measures sparking and sizzling, tempestuous and wild in her own right. But it left an impression in between her furrowed brows, notched and waiting for something else to flicker apart. “I’m going to go monster hunting soon anyway.”
The inquiries about Ludo seemed to illustrate more proportions of the illustrious and stark Stormbreak, and she found herself nodding along, seeking out more. “Oh. Hm.” Maybe a graveyard, similar to the one in the Greatwood? Where one entered the forest and were instinctively countered, measured, and weighed, by the presence of endless ghosts? “Why weren’t you allowed to go see?” Wouldn’t a child of Safrin be permitted anywhere? The temptation of the unknown alone would send Melita sprawling over fences; the furtive nature only heightening the necessities.
Discussions over the herald were prompted though, and her feet fell in a sure manner, gliding over the hot sands, Fangorn bumbling along at her side. “It is my favorite! I’ve met it many times, and summoned it to help us whenever we ran into danger.” Smile widening, she reflected on portions and pieces of her meetings. “Very childlike. Loves games. Gave me or helped me obtain quite a few weapons.”
Her eyes widened at the offer, but she shook her head. There was no need to dredge up or involve anyone else in the spree of stupidity. “That's very kind. Thank you, but I’ll be all right. If things get too bad, I’ll just stay in my room on the Ark.” For the most part, it was the overall discomfort in the house. Never really quite knowing where she was supposed to be, or go, or intertwine between all the measures sparking and sizzling, tempestuous and wild in her own right. But it left an impression in between her furrowed brows, notched and waiting for something else to flicker apart. “I’m going to go monster hunting soon anyway.”
The inquiries about Ludo seemed to illustrate more proportions of the illustrious and stark Stormbreak, and she found herself nodding along, seeking out more. “Oh. Hm.” Maybe a graveyard, similar to the one in the Greatwood? Where one entered the forest and were instinctively countered, measured, and weighed, by the presence of endless ghosts? “Why weren’t you allowed to go see?” Wouldn’t a child of Safrin be permitted anywhere? The temptation of the unknown alone would send Melita sprawling over fences; the furtive nature only heightening the necessities.
Discussions over the herald were prompted though, and her feet fell in a sure manner, gliding over the hot sands, Fangorn bumbling along at her side. “It is my favorite! I’ve met it many times, and summoned it to help us whenever we ran into danger.” Smile widening, she reflected on portions and pieces of her meetings. “Very childlike. Loves games. Gave me or helped me obtain quite a few weapons.”
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
