Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Darkeye was wrong on several accounts: from her ability to reappear and disappear at will (nonexistent, but gods that’d be fun), his vendetta into mauling Sunjata into a certain death (when her uncle had avoided it for years now and from those much stronger than the priest), to her not giving a shit about him.
Maybe she didn’t now though.
All he wanted to do was talk and talk and talk, without a semblance of self-awareness, or accountability. And she wasn’t going to wait around to educate him either, rolling her eyes, the snarl still vivid across her mouth. Years before, she wouldn’t have hesitated to bludgeon him, much like she’d attempted with Loren. Nowadays it didn’t even seem worth it. Perhaps it was maturity. Maybe she was just tired of it all. “Whatever you think,” she handwaved flippantly, shouldering her weapons. “You won’t kill him. Stick to things you can do.” And then she turned, indifferent and cool where the fire still forged. “Good luck.”
{FIN}
Maybe she didn’t now though.
All he wanted to do was talk and talk and talk, without a semblance of self-awareness, or accountability. And she wasn’t going to wait around to educate him either, rolling her eyes, the snarl still vivid across her mouth. Years before, she wouldn’t have hesitated to bludgeon him, much like she’d attempted with Loren. Nowadays it didn’t even seem worth it. Perhaps it was maturity. Maybe she was just tired of it all. “Whatever you think,” she handwaved flippantly, shouldering her weapons. “You won’t kill him. Stick to things you can do.” And then she turned, indifferent and cool where the fire still forged. “Good luck.”
{FIN}
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
