Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Melita wondered, vaguely, if anyone had ever simply crushed him in this way before. Instead of setting fire to his house or various properties, maybe they should’ve just kicked him in the balls and sent him scurrying downward. It seemed effective; rendering him nearly speechless, panting, and heaving, though maybe a bit too cruel. She couldn’t tell anymore – not when the wildfire youth knew the lengths she could be driven to, and edges she could be pushed upon.
So while he took his time, apparently shifting into some human-dragon hybrid thing, the youth rose back up, dusting herself off, eyeing Fangorn quietly while the vampire gourd seemed to be glaring at her. Uncertain what the withering stare could mean, and not yearning for the answer, she settled for glancing back at her uncle, waiting for the minutes and seconds to pass by before the inquiry seemed suitable. “Do you want to go again, or be done?”
So while he took his time, apparently shifting into some human-dragon hybrid thing, the youth rose back up, dusting herself off, eyeing Fangorn quietly while the vampire gourd seemed to be glaring at her. Uncertain what the withering stare could mean, and not yearning for the answer, she settled for glancing back at her uncle, waiting for the minutes and seconds to pass by before the inquiry seemed suitable. “Do you want to go again, or be done?”
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
