Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
Melita watched the bizarre exchange with little of her expression hidden. Unlike Evie, who was far more subtle and sly about the confusion and bewilderment, the Honeybee’s shown plainly on her face – an arched brow, a tilted head, and a quizzical dominion beginning to circumvent. She’d been known to snag volcanic stones now and then too, but not in the way the stranger was doing.
Whatever.
Stepping lightly down to where Evie was, she gave not a single shit about the lava, shrugging her shoulders. At the Evergreen’s amicable touch, she lost some of her exasperation, looking down into the pits as the other woman continued onward. Hopefully the rope remained in tact. “What’re you getting yours for?” the young smuggler inquired, perhaps to both.
Whatever.
Stepping lightly down to where Evie was, she gave not a single shit about the lava, shrugging her shoulders. At the Evergreen’s amicable touch, she lost some of her exasperation, looking down into the pits as the other woman continued onward. Hopefully the rope remained in tact. “What’re you getting yours for?” the young smuggler inquired, perhaps to both.
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
