[se] to be chaotic and bold

Melita

yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard

Oh, Melita would keep trying. She was one of the mass who simply didn’t cease, even when it was probably the best notion. Smiling at the applause, and maybe eager to coax another into the same situation simply for amusements, she shrugged her shoulders, but only a miniscule amount. Enough to ensure her balance strived. “Yeah, I am!” More of an exuberant chirp this time, the youth intended to shuffle her way closer to the stranger. “It doesn’t hurt too bad.” If one was used to gaining bruises on their asses, or far more understanding of graver, more grevious, injuries.

Fangorn, once more, was the resident show-off, gliding across with ridiculous ease, while Sila garnered a few more smoke rings, aiming them at the ice. As the honeybee made a fair impersonation of either a penguin or a very, slow, cautious, newborn deer, gangly, unfurled legs and all, she lifted her head, finally appraising the other youth. “I’m Melita. Who are you?”

I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury