Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
She stared, still momentarily confused, at the prospects of researching, of carving into skulls and staring at brains. “Oh,” was a stupefied, unmeasured response, blinking steadily, once or twice, before narrowing her eyes in the same modified bewilderment. “Did she…find what she wanted?”
Lighter tones for lighter conversations perhaps, giving way to the footfalls of heavier boundaries and steps. Nate was far more willing to give the necessary information – not that Melita would do anything with it, save keep it for herself. “It’s quite beautiful there,” wistfully, airily, in some course of agreement over peace, over quiet. She wasn’t certain Sunjata knew what either of those things were. Nor Nate, nowadays. “Thanks for letting me know. Do you…” and she stared at the ground then, suddenly feeling very unwelcome with the whole thing. “Do you think anyone would mind if I visit?” If she somehow pulled herself together, without the rage, without the fury, aimed at one individual in particular?
But as far as her going, staying, the fiery youth shook her head. “I have things to do here.” Something choked in the back of her throat, and she had to look away. “But I’ll keep the house in order.” The one they were leaving behind. Maybe she’d fill it with more animals so it wouldn’t seem so empty, so vast, without the reeling of life and forces parading through it at all hours.
Lighter tones for lighter conversations perhaps, giving way to the footfalls of heavier boundaries and steps. Nate was far more willing to give the necessary information – not that Melita would do anything with it, save keep it for herself. “It’s quite beautiful there,” wistfully, airily, in some course of agreement over peace, over quiet. She wasn’t certain Sunjata knew what either of those things were. Nor Nate, nowadays. “Thanks for letting me know. Do you…” and she stared at the ground then, suddenly feeling very unwelcome with the whole thing. “Do you think anyone would mind if I visit?” If she somehow pulled herself together, without the rage, without the fury, aimed at one individual in particular?
But as far as her going, staying, the fiery youth shook her head. “I have things to do here.” Something choked in the back of her throat, and she had to look away. “But I’ll keep the house in order.” The one they were leaving behind. Maybe she’d fill it with more animals so it wouldn’t seem so empty, so vast, without the reeling of life and forces parading through it at all hours.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
