[Se] I need color

Melita

I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles

Well, that’d been quite a vault opened – and Melita’s eyes reflected each inward thought, from widening in complexity, to narrowing in derision, and to the finality of staring straight ahead, uncertain of what to do or say after that speech. It was a multitude to take in, and her attention deviated momentarily, mind struggling to imagine the suffering. She knew her own quite well. “I’m sorry you were forced to do all that,” she mentioned eventually, pondering over platitudes and likelihoods. The honeybee enjoyed fighting – but on her own terms, and she’d rarely been forced into a fray. “Maybe you’ll find something here you’ll like to.” Before wars and bleaker wakes, before cataclysms and survival.

and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me