Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
She tipped her head while she worked, contemplating more of what Darkeye insinuated. She’d longed for power too – but it hadn’t been to persecute anyone else, save for her enemies, her adversaries, or those that threatened to harm her loved ones. And she had no shame in it. Completing the other pane, she lifted it up to the sun to see the flecks of light pierce through, satisfied and content with the result. “My uncle is an Ascended. A demigod for the Voice.” She breathed a little, soaking in all the tangents and possibilities, the parameters that smarted and ghosted. “He’s a good person too, but sometimes…” attacked and assaulted innocents.
She shrugged, not having come to all the terms with it herself.
Besides, another moment struck and her brows furrowed, catching a sharp notion from the corner of her eye. “Did you see that?”
She shrugged, not having come to all the terms with it herself.
Besides, another moment struck and her brows furrowed, catching a sharp notion from the corner of her eye. “Did you see that?”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
