Training monkey see, monkey do
for Melita
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
Played by: Astor Online
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Posts: 605
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#1
WESSEX
She wouldn’t necessarily call it guilt, but there is some lingering feeling of, oh, disappointment in herself for letting Melita hear her condemnation of the Outlander assault team. If only because she doesn’t hate all the Outlanders, just the majority of them. Some are palatable, and a select few are even ok to be around. Lucas. Melita. Deimos. Aedion was fine, but he was gone. Rexanna is… fine. Edy is in a category all her own. Everyone else can fuck off. Her philosophy on her own kind is much the same, but she’s less likely to admit it, because even Wessex needs allies.

Anyway. Despite her warnings that they would have to train at night, which might be harder on the girl than she’s used to do, Melita persisted, and so Wessex acquiesces with a smile on her face. They’ll start with something that can only bump and bruise, until she can get a feeling for the spitfire’s abilities and technical know-how. To be honest, Wessex’s forte isn’t in staffs, so this will be an exciting exercise for her too.

Hauling a set of torches out with her, the older woman sets out their stage, lighting the oil-dipped tips in order to give Melita enough light to see by. She’s got a fancy new, polished, hardwood staff laying in the grass on the side. And as Wessex waits, she begins to clear the area of anything that may trip them up: dangerous terrain lessons come later, the first one ain’t worth a twisted ankle.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
please tag in all replies | force and magic allowed
please ask if you'd like to kill
if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night
Melita Najya
☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 18 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 452
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#2
 
M E L I T A


The youth had never been one to squander opportunities: fists tightly grasping hold of whatever she could, dragging it down to her sights, sounds, actions, motives, vices, and virtues. A better individual might not have scrambled and sank their teeth into every instance, but she was greedy, she was covetous, she was begging, aching, for some semblance to prove herself, to become worthy, to be more than the savage, feral thing in the background. She wanted power, she wanted might, she wanted the fury deep in her soul to be unleashed – for the world to know her name, for the shadows to never encroach upon something she cherished ever again.

And to do all of that, she dared and defied, she smiled and beamed, she took emboldened strides and howled in the whistling wind. The girl flew along the night’s drawls, the ghostly, eerie ambience, contemplating nothing of the dangers, only of the chance, of the opening, to become better. She’d already knotted the ends of her dress, frayed seams and fabric as they were, bounding and leaping along the sweeping boughs of the glade, restless and fervent, Fangorn at her heels, staff in her hand.

The torches waited for her amidst the chosen clearing, and she breathed in the silhouettes of flickering flames, thought about one day being able to burn the wicked, become some sort of infernal combustion, blasting apart those who’d ever wronged her. It’s a vivid sight, and her gilded eyes roamed further, noting Wessex shuffling through the grass, tossing potential hazards out of the way. The training would be enough – but Melita wouldn’t chase the dreams away, ebullient and ardent as she strode closer and closer, finally launching into the fire’s sight. “I’m ready!” The announcement was loud, but the excitement in her voice was palpable, tangible, the reach of her staff’s end tapping into the grass, glance imploring and eager, full of unrelenting fissures and bestial assurances. Pain would be worth the education, the sagacity, the wisdom, she was about to receive.





Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
Played by: Astor Online
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Posts: 605
MP:
#3
WESSEX
She recognizes the will to survive in Melita. It’s the same dogheaded determination that rises in Caidonites when they’re faced with overused soil and weak farm animals. It’s the settling in for a painful uphill climb and the eagerness to beat herself up in order to get better. It’s the way she enthusiastically greets Wessex, even when every interaction brings the potential for chastisement and disappointment. The older woman can’t ignore something like that, so she agrees to train the girl.

I’m ready! calls out to her, following the noise of her arrival. Wessex smiles to herself and continues the tail end of her examination of the ground. “Are you?”  she replies, smelling that the girl is warm, her blood is pumping, but she may not have calmed down enough yet to focus.

“Stand on one leg until I’m done. If you step down, you have to do ten pushups.” Both strength and balance are essential for a strong fighter, and Wessex was keen to see where Melita stood on both. As for the sagacity and wisdom she was about to receive, well... maybe reserve that judgement for later, yeah?
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
please tag in all replies | force and magic allowed
please ask if you'd like to kill
if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night
Melita Najya
☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 18 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 452
MP:
#4
 
M E L I T A


“Yes!” It was a wholesome declaration weighted down by the potential, by the potency, layered in its sanction. She was impassioned and fervid in her tempestuous drive for an education; her heart rapid, her breaths swift, her restlessness curling its way through her limbs. Melita had plenty of drive – it’d been an uncontained nuance since her childhood, chasing down butterflies and bees through fields of clover, through meadows and ferns, pursuing anything and everything that could satisfy an endless, bountiful curiosity. She’d craved boundaries and warrens, puzzles and pieces, dove-tailing into labyrinths and caves without the slightest bit of hesitation, a child of the earth, the sun, the dirt and dust. Then it fell apart, and she was forced to yearn and long for other things: suitable weapons, a day of safety, sanctuary and fortifications for her friends.

Now, it didn’t have to be simply a wish.

Wessex must’ve sensed she was a tempestuous little force, almost jumping out of her own skin with excitement and raw, zealous energy. She adhered to the first set of instructions immediately, taking everything in, applying it thoroughly. She lifted one leg while Fangorn looked on, a subtle arch to a gourd’s brows, but her other limb certainly swayed in the breeze. She breathed, channeled some sort of calm, composed balance, rest of her body shaking in tandem. How was she going to right herself? How was this so difficult? She hadn’t even started applying herself to any movements or motions yet!

Melita thought of tranquility, of serenity, of small, spring winds and the sounds of swallow songs. She thought of sweet nectar nestled between flowers. She thought of laughter and radiance, the sun beating down from its humid wake across the Dragon’s Throat, the perennial war cry of Sun Gods and their hasty, brazen nuances.

But then she thought of the world falling to its knees, of deities floundering, of losing everyone; she ground her teeth, she clenched her jaw, and her foot fell to the ground.

“All right,” she admitted, head downcast for a moment. “Maybe not.” A sigh fluttered through her, and she glanced sidelong at Fangorn to see the pumpkin shaking, either with laughter or disappointment. Then she lowered her frame down to the ground, hands splayed at her sides, before pushing up off of the earth (and she didn’t confess how difficult that was; her muscles roared on the third, the fourth). Sheer determination and willpower brought her to the tenth, but it’d been a damn effort. Her arms felt like jelly, loose and fatigued; and this was all suddenly very stupid. Her skinny limbs were well suited to speed, but not to strength; might only exist in the forefront of her resolve and tenacity. She rose, stared, and looked at her makeshift staff, wondering if she even had the right to wield it.




Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
Played by: Astor Online
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Posts: 605
MP:
#5
WESSEX
“No,” she say matter-of-factly, looking over at the girl struggling through her pushups. “You’re ready.” Throwing away the last bits of potential trouble, she comes over to Melita and looks frankly at the young Outlander, who seems a bit… worried? No. Brimming with doubt? Perhaps. “But this isn’t just about weapons. There is strength to consider. Agility. Endurance. You’re skinny and fast, and that can keep you out of trouble, but what happens when you can’t escape?” What happens when there’s someone faster and bigger and stronger? Or you don’t know the lay of the land and run into a dead end?

She reaches out and takes hold of one of Melita’s arms, pulling it away from her body and shaking it a little, observing the lanky noodle that it is. “So we’re gonna put some muscles on you, and it’s definitely going to hurt.” Wessex lets go of the arm and arches an eyebrow, looking for any signs that the little firebrant isn't up for it. She will eventually get used to it, as she gets stronger and is able to do more things for a longer period of time. That is, however, what she signed up for when she asked Wessex for training.

Melita is perceptive. She had to have an inkling of what she was getting herself into. Wessex is cuddly; she doesn’t coddle - hell, she could have killed the girl during the winter if she’d had a mind to. No, Wessex will be a tough taskmistress and will teach the girl how to survive in Caido, like she has. But the thing is that children here don’t spend a long time as children. It’s a luxury they don’t have.

Wessex steps away and fetches her own staff, coming to face Melita again, holding the wood at arm’s length, parallel to the ground. A normal person might have kicked around, made sure their knees were feeling up to it, hiked up their clothing, or dome some sort of preparation - but Wessex doesn’t have to do that. Her knees will always be in working order. She doesn’t have to wear layers. There’s no need to stretch. Instead, she sinks down into a wide legged squat, knees over her toes and looks expectantly at the redhead, waiting for her to follow suit.

The Natural woman knows exactly what she’s inflicting on the Outlander, because at some point, many years ago, someone taught Wessex a thing or two about fighting. Then they died and she was left to figure shit out on her own - but her then-teacher had be adamant about two things: come ready to work and that he wouldn’t ask her to do anything he wouldn’t do with her.

So. Here they go.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
please tag in all replies | force and magic allowed
please ask if you'd like to kill
if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night
Melita Najya
☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 18 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 452
MP:
#6
 
M E L I T A


Wessex presented a reality Melita had already experienced – she just never had the time to fine tune her talents, her strengths, while they all scrambled and howled throughout adversity. She wished it was more about weapons – weapons she could understand - things she could wield, things she could stab with, things she could slash and burn and rip and tear. But it always seemed to come back to her and what she lacked, what she craved, all those empty facets on her longing, clambering way to strength and dominion. She already knew what happened when something was bigger, something was faster, something was more than herself. When all else failed she simply guarded, became a damned human shield, had the scars and the screams to prove it.

Gods, she was so tired of not being enough.

But that was why she was here, awaiting hardships and pain and agony, so she could become more than the feral little child whisking her way through battle after battle, fumbling and careening, diving and toiling, until something measured up or ignited her circumstances. She permitted Wessex to raise her arm, shake it, like it was nothing, and the girl stared at the scrawny, scraggy limb, eyes drawn to her hands and palms, calloused and rough from holding onto makeshift munitions she should’ve never had to embrace. “I know pain,” she uttered, quiet and soft, but nodding her head in agreement, in assent, in the tumbling acceptance of the upcoming ordeal. But it’d be worth it in the end, because she’d put the world to shame with her fire, with her persistence, with every ounce of dominion and might driven into their hearts, minds, and souls. This was survival and fortitude, this was how she’d endured everything thrown her way, this was suffering for the greater good; so no one she cherished was ever harmed again. So no one looked down their noses and scoffed at the savage girl, so she’d be the hunter, the wolf, the inferno, chasing down the bitter, scalding fiends, a seditious knife, a revolutionary blade.

Teach me, her raised chin and head proffered and defied, the steely glint to her gilded eyes reaching across the void.

Her gaze followed Wessex and her movements followed suit – Fangorn placing himself nearby, a stalwart, pumpkin guardian – squatting, hand gripping hold of her staff, ready for the inevitable, for the undertaking, for a way to fix herself, become something other than the ruffian.




Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 605
MP:
#7
WESSEX
Don’t all seventeen and eighteen year olds feel like they’re not enough? Having just stepped over the threshold of adulthood, there is a yearning to be seen as equals with their peers, as forces in their own right. And they are; they hold within them greater forces for potential than their elders, who have chosen their paths and settled into them. Melita has a hundred different choices in front of her, and Wessex doesn’t want to close any of them to her. If anything, she wants to open more. But there is a logical progression to things, and impatience can only be rewarded with injury, here.

She notes the ever present defiance and simultaneous acquiescence and cannot help but chuckle at the unwavering spirit that seemed to take insult at every turn.

“Tell me what else you know,” Wessex demands, following on the tails of her proclamation of knowing pain. She watches the girl in the firelight, taking in her words and digesting them, whatever they may be, with a quiet reception. Until suddenly, somewhere in the middle, perhaps, or the middle-end, Wessex tries to take Melita by surprised with three short, sharp attacks. The first aims for her right thigh, the staff coming down to tap the top of her leg from Wessex’s left side - that is, directly opposite. It is quickly followed by an underswing aiming for the left side of Melita’s staff, outside of her grip, intending to either knock it out of her grasp or upset her balance. The third is purely a wild, large swing of the Ascended’s staff upward again, as the stick completes the pinwheeling motion begun by the first underswing, so that Wessex has now circled both ends of the staff under and over, returning to center.

She makes no move to defend herself if Melita can get a strike in before Wessex returns to her first position. She’s just testing reflexes, concentration, balance, and stamina.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
please tag in all replies | force and magic allowed
please ask if you'd like to kill
if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night
Melita Najya
☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 18 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 452
MP:
#8
 
M E L I T A


Tell me what else you know was a gateway, a damn opening and breaking, and Melita didn’t know where to start or how to begin. She knew how curiosity sought her out, hook, line, and sinker, until she craved its scholarly pursuits and demanding intentions, until she scoured the light and dampened the darkness. She knew how it sounded when a world ended, crashing, disastrous toils clinging to her eardrums long after she’d been forced into a portal, and then empty, empty silence, like the void screaming for help. She knew how it felt to have a mother’s death and sacrifice affect her so profoundly, that every day she wondered if she’d been worth it, to scream and howl and sob when the ghosts came rushing over her neck, strangled, choked, suffocated. She knew how it felt when naught she did every truly mattered, but she wanted it to – so, so badly, that it broke her into filaments and splinters, and she ricocheted off the walls. She knew how injustice soaked into palms and frames, into tiny, precious beings, and how acting as a shield could only get her so far. The hundreds of life lessons stoked her core and Melita nearly shuddered and strained under the weight of it, but clapsed herself together, tore her head away from the ground and dirt, so she could face Wessex with the calm, lithe composure she was meant to obtain. But the fire moved in her too, passionate and torn, beautiful and vibrant. “I know how to defend. I know how to make myself a shield for another.” She knew how to bleed. She knew how to die. She knew how to fall. She knew how to run. “But I also know how to fail – and to try and triumph over it, learn from mistakes.” The youth swallowed down the bile hastening her throat, and gathered herself back together.

But then, a wave of movement and motion caught her off-guard, as if it’d been entirely on purpose, to snatch away the riveted attention, to steal her away from her thoughts, to interrupt the cycle of broken, damaged little things. The first motion of Wessex’s staff pummeled at her thigh immediately, and before she could swing and propel herself out of the way, the second came roaring too, tapping along her knee as she slid to the right. Out of pure, damned irritation and vexation, she seemed to realize, remember, recall she was still holding her own staff, and was meant to retaliate. Wessex’s wide swing and lack of defense throughout the last motion gave her somewhat of a chance; but the older woman was likely far more calculated than she. She held her staff in the center, fists clustered tightly together, then spread them apart quickly, to gain more control and precision over its long-ended weight. Thereafter, she aimed for the top of Wessex’s left thigh, or to stop the pinwheeling melee, relishing in the feel of the wood beneath the intended attack, in the memories harbored in her chest.





Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 605
MP:
#9
WESSEX
Of all the things Melita could have told her about, Wessex is slightly disappointed to hear those things come out of her mouth. But that is on the trainer, not the trainee. The trainer should have specified, should have asked what was behind the clench of her jaw and the determination in the crinkles of her forehead. Next time she will, but for now, the Ascended simply nods, allows the strike to land, and notes it all with a slightly curious, but otherwise relatively impassive face.

She wonders how the girl’s legs feel; Wessex will never again feel serious pain (or pleasure, but there must be some casualties), but she remembers well how muscles can begin to burn - and she has no desire to hobble Melita after their first session. It is not an underestimation of her abilities, simply a practicality. Life in Caido is hard, she must be able to do her daily work - whatever that is - as well.

A couple more moments pass in which Wessex remains in the wide stance, staff stretched out before her, before she straightens her legs and gestures for Melita to do the same. A warm breeze blows through the trees, ruffling spring leaves and sending the fire-shadows dancing across her face. Mortal her would have loved nights like tonight. Ascended her still might love them, to be honest. But back to the task at hand: “And this? Try and copy my moves,” she says, casually spinning the staff in front of her.

It starts horizontally as she moves it in a circle with one hand, then catching the wood as it turns vertical and letting go with the first hand. Wessex keeps the movements fairly slow for a couple of heartbeats before speeding it up. Then, she stops the spinning with a quick redirection, using the momentum of the stick to carry it in a wide circle across her chest, her right hand pushing it towards her left shoulder, above her head, and then up and to the right again. There, a quick flick of her wrist sends it into another spiral before she finally directs the staff behind her back, where she turns it back to a vertical position and passes it into her left hand, where it finally it still.

Luckily for Melita, the point isn’t to get the sequence right on the first try.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
please tag in all replies | force and magic allowed
please ask if you'd like to kill
if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night
Melita Najya
☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 18 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 452
MP:
#10
 
M E L I T A


There wasn’t a single response to her refrains, to her garbled, entangled history. Perhaps Wessex didn’t care. Maybe it didn’t matter. Everything might’ve simply been contorted into the here and now, and the worlds before – where she’d sat and cried, where she’d molded and carved, scraped and burrowed, clawed and shielded, didn’t do a damn thing. It was the present that should’ve occupied her mind and body, her soul and movements, her motions and barrages, her assaults and sieges. She let the ghosts go from her mind, for now, saved them for later when the earth was quiet and her hands weren’t occupied by swinging staffs and makeshift weapons, when precision didn’t matter, when she wasn’t intent on becoming powerful and fearsome.

There was a healthy, brooding ache in her muscles from the way she held her legs, not entirely unsettling, but certainly uncomfortable; a way for her frame to register it’d been working hard, that the worlds, kingdoms, and sovereignties would be far tougher, and she thought about grinding her teeth, clenching her jaw, and simply sucking it up. The youth wasn’t going to complain. She wasn’t going to whine. She wasn’t going to ask for pity, sympathy, or empathy. She’d push herself straight into the earth if it was required of her. Maybe Wessex noticed the slight twinge in her calves, in her joints, in the way her stance was no longer so profound or prolific; altering back to normalcy, allowing Melita to do the same. It was all in silence, so she had to watch, she had to be patient, she had to remain composed, and though a thousand inquiries curled their way into her mind, it wasn’t Wessex’s preferred method.

Her eyes took in the spinning of the Ascended’s staff, the way it maneuvered in a circle, the way her hands caught the wood and sent it shifting again, slowly, so the honeybee girl would have half a chance to copy the motions. She witnessed it several more times, taking in the clutch of the woman’s fingers, where and ways she held the weapon, before trying to for herself; thrusting it outward, then in front of her, gilded stare reverently coursing along the intricate, but redundant notions. At first, it wasn’t so bad, flipping it along one hand before it spiraled to the other, until her grasp became tired, until her fingers didn’t flex as well, until it slipped from her clenching hold and altered the course. She huffed an incensed breath, but didn’t complain, didn’t proffer a damned curse, oath, or word, lifting the staff back up to the prior position, and beginning again. Her arms reminded her they weren’t made of steel either, had mortal qualities she’d never be able to counter, but strength and conviction flickered in her wrist, and she attempted the redirection move, altering the course, striving to mimic Wessex’s deadly contortions. It worked just the once, but never across her back, fettering on some misguided calculation and falling to the ground.

Fangorn hissed at it, as if it were the staff’s fault, but her tired arms lifted slightly to scratch him on the stem, then grabbed hold of the weapon. She should’ve never have dropped it. The youth attempted to adjust accordingly, shaking out her arms so her muscles ceased quivering, shuddering, undulating, aching, hopping in place to get the blood flowing once more. “Let me try again,” she pleaded, strong and enduring, and aimed to follow the motions in the same stead.




Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 22 - Dext: 23 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 605
MP:
#11
WESSEX
At her request, Wessex exhales audibly and offers the tiniest of smiles. “You don’t have to be perfect the first time. That’s not what I’m looking for.” It’s probably the best explanation Melita will get from her mentor right now, and the kindest response. There are times to push hard and times to take it easy - and this? This is easy. She doesn’t want to scare Melita off quite yet.

The warrior reaches out for the staff, moving to take it from her trembling limbs. She tosses her own weapon to the edges of the circle and then follows suit with the redhead’s. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me, Melita. So whatever’s going on in there… “ she points to her trainee’s head with a little circular wag of her finger. “Let it go. All I want is for you to take this seriously. Do your best. And you know I’ll know if you don’t do your best, right?” Of course she does, but there’s no harm in emphasizing the fact.

Wessex wants to smell the sweat dripping off of her when they’re done with their sessions. She wants to hear labored breathing. She wants to see tremors in the body.

They're almost done. Wessex lays down on the ground and motions for Melita to join her. Wordlessly, she lifts her legs into a table top position and then her shoulders up as well. She moves through a series of ab exercises, ending in a held plank. When she finally comes down to her hands, she pushes up into a cobra stretch and looks over at the girl. "Do ab work every day if you don't already." A measured pause. "Any questions?"
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
please tag in all replies | force and magic allowed
please ask if you'd like to kill
if Wessex has started a thread, it takes place at night
Melita Najya
☆ Monster Hunters Guild
Age: 18 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 22 - Luck: 15
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 452
MP:
#12
 
M E L I T A


Wessex saw right through her, straight into her core, her heart, her overwhelmed, blessed, seditious soul. Melita wanted to be something other than this inept, weak girl, capable of enduring but not much else. It would take time, and Wessex assured her of this; nothing was instaneous, no matter how badly she wanted it – her jaw clenched, but she nodded at the kind oath, eyes still not daring to look up into the Ascended’s, but pausing at the small smile; pondering layers of disappointment, and if there were any after all, if the youth had simply set herself up to fall, but rise, rise, rise again, a stunning little phoenix after everything was said and done.

Her staff was taken, and her fingers might’ve reached out for it, a minor complaint, comfort in the solid wood, in the ability to wield something that could protect, that could destroy, but Wessex’s finger was in front of her face, wagging and encircling her brow. You don’t have to prove yourself to me echoed along the calm, quiet refrain, and she felt something ghost and billow behind her eyelids, pressing in on her; for she’d spent her entire life desperately trying to show the world what she was capable of, that she couldn’t be denied, that they shouldn’t dare look away from her form, not when she was fire and vitriol, not when she was exuberance and wonder, a tempest on the horizon. It was how she’d survived in the Rift, it was how she’d explored in Helovia, it was how she’d maintained any semblance of existence in Caido. It was a defensive position, a way for the world to see what happened when they collided with her fangs, with her talons, with her claws, with her insurrection, flames and infernos, struggling to let it go. “I’m serious. I’ll do my best,” she nodded, breathing in and out, tampering down the essence of her melancholy, of her anguish, of her yearning, burning wish to be something so much better than what she was, the hint of a smile peeking along her lips. Her arms trembled and her legs were shaking and she was so weak compared to everyone else, but she’d be damned if she ever gave in.

She watched as Wessex dropped to the ground, followed the specific movements in silence. She knew they wouldn’t just be staring at the sky, at the endless, dark void and the stars above, but her body was quite content to relax there for a moment, shifting once or twice, indicating which limbs were sore. She still followed the silent directions, lifting her legs (and feeling them tremble; her abs clearly not ready for any of this), then her shoulders, inhaling big puffs of air as they continues. By the time they worked themselves to a plank, everything hurt, tiny muscles trembling, arms aching, her body stunned into this sort of work. Dashing through fields and hurdling herself over logs, chasing down stars and the heavens, and running amidst shadows and caverns hadn’t set her up for this sort of work. But it was fine – she’d adhere and deliver whatever Wessex had her do – no rest for the wicked or the weary. As she stretched, she nodded, hiding her pant, agreeing to the measures while her body ached and cajoled for no more. “I will!” I will persevere. I will be strong. Then she shook her head about inquiries, and just mustered acknowledgments. “Thank you. For everything.”







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