Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
At the news that Ronin had indeed found some place to call home, to gather himself, to weather the battles, to assail and call out orders, caused the grin on her features to brighten. “Good. I’m glad. He deserves to be happy.” After all the pain, loss, and torment, and Melita was certain she only knew about half of those perilous endeavors, didn’t the Dark Star warrant some happiness into his life? She kicked on ahead, eyes watching the pumpkin and dragon interact with some new foundations – Umbra seemed far gentler, and Fangorn seemed far keener – but the gourd was rolling along at a decent speed for his abilities. Another challenge?
As for notions of joining dragoons, to be fair, she hadn’t. A shake of her head ensued, long crimson locks dangling down in hurricane knots. “I haven’t, truthfully. I do enjoy the sea a lot, even if the captain is a giant pain in the ass.” Then she brought her voice low, as if enjoying a conspiring whisper amongst comrades. “I get to shoot cannons.”
But the intrigue beyond swords and battles into herbs, medicines, struck a chord with her. She managed to soften a little, brows less furrowed. “My mother was a healer. Knew all kinds of herbs, how they could benefit someone.” And Melita had gone an entirely different route – but could remember the vegetation hanging, drying, from the ceiling, as she and her twin chimed along to some new song under their breaths. “I don’t think we should take anyone with those skills for granted. After all, when the soldiers fall, where do they need to go?”
As for notions of joining dragoons, to be fair, she hadn’t. A shake of her head ensued, long crimson locks dangling down in hurricane knots. “I haven’t, truthfully. I do enjoy the sea a lot, even if the captain is a giant pain in the ass.” Then she brought her voice low, as if enjoying a conspiring whisper amongst comrades. “I get to shoot cannons.”
But the intrigue beyond swords and battles into herbs, medicines, struck a chord with her. She managed to soften a little, brows less furrowed. “My mother was a healer. Knew all kinds of herbs, how they could benefit someone.” And Melita had gone an entirely different route – but could remember the vegetation hanging, drying, from the ceiling, as she and her twin chimed along to some new song under their breaths. “I don’t think we should take anyone with those skills for granted. After all, when the soldiers fall, where do they need to go?”
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
