Melita
Eating fire is your ambition
to swallow the flame down
to swallow the flame down
Melita’s broad, feral grin wove its way onto her features as soon as Lilliane began outright participation, bemused, as the jaguar had difficulty maintaining its footing. She drew back her own weaponry, permitting the flex of her arm muscles to propel the staff onward, knocking the creature into the shoulder, listening for an audible crack of bone or marred wounds.
And while her motion did hit, so did the feline.
Its sight likely diminished by her armament’s additional effects, a paw swiped – though it missed her. Instead, it bludgeoned her weapon, and her fingers must not have been clenched hard enough, grasped in the multitudes, because no sooner had the limb knocked into it, did the staff go flying.
“Fuck’s sake,” she grumbled and hissed, rolling off into the brush and grass to snag it back.
And while her motion did hit, so did the feline.
Its sight likely diminished by her armament’s additional effects, a paw swiped – though it missed her. Instead, it bludgeoned her weapon, and her fingers must not have been clenched hard enough, grasped in the multitudes, because no sooner had the limb knocked into it, did the staff go flying.
“Fuck’s sake,” she grumbled and hissed, rolling off into the brush and grass to snag it back.
to be lit up from within, vein by vein
to be the sun
to be the sun
