Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
To hear Rexanna, and Bastien, spoken of in such a way – as if they were nothing more than the past, gnarled and knotted something in her soul. Her hands clenched together, and then she found herself plopping off the boulder, fingers itching to grab at some of the stones lined along the geyser’s fringes. “She was kind, noble, and brave,” the youth murmured, plucking at a crimson rock, placing it in her palm. “And a nice ruler. Who listened to her people.” A remarkable change from those who thought themselves better than everyone else.
She gazed at Darkeye from her crouch along the banks, then touched over an orange pebble. “I’m not sure he’d want that. Not for someone to get maimed or killed for his sake.” And based on the predators that lurked beneath the surface, there was no telling if he’d be successful. “I doubt they’d leave a trace of him anyway.” And she bit at the inside of her cheek, taking a gilded sphere, ignoring the heat of the water.
She gazed at Darkeye from her crouch along the banks, then touched over an orange pebble. “I’m not sure he’d want that. Not for someone to get maimed or killed for his sake.” And based on the predators that lurked beneath the surface, there was no telling if he’d be successful. “I doubt they’d leave a trace of him anyway.” And she bit at the inside of her cheek, taking a gilded sphere, ignoring the heat of the water.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
