Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Melita gave half a grin, though some of it was lost in the muster of deceased combatants. As for the merchant, she snorted, shrugging. “We were allowed to pick some items from his stock.” Which had been nice and generous, she supposed, though she’d already given her gloves away – sensing they’d been a bit useless and irritating in a way she didn’t want to depict.
The honeybee hadn’t expected the ricochet of wood and logs to go tumbling down, down, down into the sand at the revelations – as she’d always thought everyone knew about her relations and kin – eyes widening as she watched the reaction. “Are you all right?” Though with Phoebe as a healer, she’d likely be fine; but the state of things seemed to be in disarray. Which always occurred when Sunjata was brought up.
But the youth hadn’t meant for it to be slung in this fashion, and she offered her hand out to the Nightingale, to help her rise from the sand. “In a way,” not bothering with all the nuances and details, the strength and stretch of connections. Some of the former had long since been discarded. Portals, twists, turns, and difficult explanations weren’t on the depths of her throat today. That she hadn’t been mentioned didn’t surprise her – not now. Just a more disheartening venture. “Sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you.” Not anymore, not from years of after.
The honeybee hadn’t expected the ricochet of wood and logs to go tumbling down, down, down into the sand at the revelations – as she’d always thought everyone knew about her relations and kin – eyes widening as she watched the reaction. “Are you all right?” Though with Phoebe as a healer, she’d likely be fine; but the state of things seemed to be in disarray. Which always occurred when Sunjata was brought up.
But the youth hadn’t meant for it to be slung in this fashion, and she offered her hand out to the Nightingale, to help her rise from the sand. “In a way,” not bothering with all the nuances and details, the strength and stretch of connections. Some of the former had long since been discarded. Portals, twists, turns, and difficult explanations weren’t on the depths of her throat today. That she hadn’t been mentioned didn’t surprise her – not now. Just a more disheartening venture. “Sorry. I didn’t think it would bother you.” Not anymore, not from years of after.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
