Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
She watched as the rock descended; not as swift or keen as her prior shots with the seedpod, but enough to keep her content and satisfied as it disappeared beneath calm, undulating waves. Her eyes turned to see if he’d angled and readied himself for another shot, but instead, seemed to be admiring the stone itself. The honeybee could understand those fathoms – rocks were pretty cool – and didn’t give way to any manner of impatience strumming through her veins.
Her stare went to her companions, checking in, while Fangorn occupied Sila with waving vines and snapping jaws, before listening to the merman again. He hadn’t seen the mystical, mythical creature, but she’d never had her wish granted. “No,” she shrugged, and that was all right – there were more fortunes and destinies to be had, and it wasn’t like she didn’t carve her own path. “There were a lot of people here that day.” The restlessness drumming along her hands had her grasp changing, swiping the staff at any long grass nearby.
Her stare went to her companions, checking in, while Fangorn occupied Sila with waving vines and snapping jaws, before listening to the merman again. He hadn’t seen the mystical, mythical creature, but she’d never had her wish granted. “No,” she shrugged, and that was all right – there were more fortunes and destinies to be had, and it wasn’t like she didn’t carve her own path. “There were a lot of people here that day.” The restlessness drumming along her hands had her grasp changing, swiping the staff at any long grass nearby.
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
