Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Her brow arched at his zealous approach. Thereafter, she was a darting little missile, playing about the waves in a swift, rapid motion, skimming along the surface, evading and avoiding with a delightful little hum beginning in the back of her throat. “Nah. I’ll keep this one,” to which she winked.
As for Flora, the youth’s smirk grew, far more Cheshire. “Her side? I don’t know. She was pretty impressive,” and she tapped on her chin, only pausing briefly, and certainly not with enough time for him to meander any closer. “She channeled a spirit to bombard someone with fish, so,” standards were high.
Her head tilted vaguely before dancing along a myriad of the current undulations again, eyes flickering briefly to her companions on the shore, and then back to Flora’s twin. “Sure,” came along a visceral snort.
As for Flora, the youth’s smirk grew, far more Cheshire. “Her side? I don’t know. She was pretty impressive,” and she tapped on her chin, only pausing briefly, and certainly not with enough time for him to meander any closer. “She channeled a spirit to bombard someone with fish, so,” standards were high.
Her head tilted vaguely before dancing along a myriad of the current undulations again, eyes flickering briefly to her companions on the shore, and then back to Flora’s twin. “Sure,” came along a visceral 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
