Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
“They have other Ascended now, I’m sure,” she murmured, nose wrinkling slightly, but still. A loss was a loss of parents, no matter the amount of found family or otherwise surrounding them. The companion too – she hadn’t thought of that one. Her eyes went downward, towards lovely little Fangorn rumbling about in the edges of the spring – wondering over the state of her future dragon as well. What would happen to them, if something occurred to her?
A thought, she’d honestly, never processed before.
Instead of gleaning inward, her feet were light along the brink, gaze flicking back to Darkeye for a moment as he placed his pack down. “Oh. All right. I’ll keep finding stones if you want to cut them up.” It would give something for her to do, rather than restlessly clamber in some age-old, worn out, sentiments of grief.
A thought, she’d honestly, never processed before.
Instead of gleaning inward, her feet were light along the brink, gaze flicking back to Darkeye for a moment as he placed his pack down. “Oh. All right. I’ll keep finding stones if you want to cut them up.” It would give something for her to do, rather than restlessly clamber in some age-old, worn out, sentiments of grief.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
