Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Ice wasn’t something readily experienced by the honeybee. Sure, she’d been to Halo a couple of times, but certainly not out of enjoyment. She was, by all accounts, a being of fire and embers and infernos, with everything else notched in between – the encounters with frozen proportions few and far between (if one forgot the quiver on her back).
So she found herself tapping on the edges of it with one booted heel, pondering, frowning, hands on her hips, for a moment or two. She could conquer this. She could conquer anything. Fangorn, with his wisdom, sauntered out and slid along on his vines, rumbling and grumbling his enjoyment. Sila seemed all the more perturbed, staring at her reflection in the glassy veneer.
Melita huffed, not to be outdone by a vampire gourd, and started out on a diligent march, before, regrettably, and unsurprisingly, falling on her ass. Eyes rounded in a stunned, stupefied expression, while Fangorn howled and Sila clicked her talons across the force over to her bonded. “Huh,” was all that formed, other than a snort.
So she found herself tapping on the edges of it with one booted heel, pondering, frowning, hands on her hips, for a moment or two. She could conquer this. She could conquer anything. Fangorn, with his wisdom, sauntered out and slid along on his vines, rumbling and grumbling his enjoyment. Sila seemed all the more perturbed, staring at her reflection in the glassy veneer.
Melita huffed, not to be outdone by a vampire gourd, and started out on a diligent march, before, regrettably, and unsurprisingly, falling on her ass. Eyes rounded in a stunned, stupefied expression, while Fangorn howled and Sila clicked her talons across the force over to her bonded. “Huh,” was all that formed, other than a snort.
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
