Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Permitting them to cool meant more time spent idling about, and so the youth sat before the structure, trying her best not to simmer in her restless proportions. “Thank you,” and she offered a bright smile at the compliment, inspecting as he set portions of stone aside.
Attention momentarily meandered away from the dimming temperatures, and towards her companion. “Probably not,” she warned the vampire gourd, who didn’t seem as put out as she’d expected (likely due to the prospects of forthcoming meat anyway). There were a few waves of his vines in accord, before she snorted at the implication she’d pass out. “I’m all right,” but she snagged at her canteen anyway, taking a few refreshing sips. It’d been a long while, especially as a child of the desert, since she’d ever been bothered by heat and its potential disastrous angles.
Attention momentarily meandered away from the dimming temperatures, and towards her companion. “Probably not,” she warned the vampire gourd, who didn’t seem as put out as she’d expected (likely due to the prospects of forthcoming meat anyway). There were a few waves of his vines in accord, before she snorted at the implication she’d pass out. “I’m all right,” but she snagged at her canteen anyway, taking a few refreshing sips. It’d been a long while, especially as a child of the desert, since she’d ever been bothered by heat and its potential disastrous angles.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
