Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Had she not been standing so close to the pool, or listening for any variety of factors or fractures along the water’s surface, she might’ve jumped at the voice. Instead, she tipped her head in a sudden greeting, a light smile adorning her features at the familiar face. Placing her staff back in the grasp of a singular hand, she paused momentarily to bestow more introduction facets, the gleam of a Cheshire adornment not lost. “Hello Hadama. Did the pastries survive?”
His inquiry was met with more devilish accord, and the youth, fiery, wild, and vicious in her own right, was not one to back away from a challenge – instinctively driven to the roots of each and every one like a moth to a flame. “What did you have in mind?”
His inquiry was met with more devilish accord, and the youth, fiery, wild, and vicious in her own right, was not one to back away from a challenge – instinctively driven to the roots of each and every one like a moth to a flame. “What did you have in mind?”
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
