Maeve
Melita seemed impressed enough by her use of the whip that Maeve felt a little surge of confidence. Her smile grew and she followed her attention towards the birds that the Honeybee pointed out, narrowing her eyes in consideration, shifting closer to the new targets. The Nightshade adjusted the grip on her whip, thumb brushing across the bands of leather, tracing the stitching there before she took a breathe. It would be the first real thing she hurt with her new weapon and a part of her was worried what it might do.
With a strong flick of her wrists and the resounding crack that came from the whip, she struck out against the Hels, catching the first one in its side. The fire burns quickly, catching the birds feathers, keeping it grounded when it attempted to fly away. Maeve doesn't let it suffer, lashing out a second time to put it out of its misery, leaving it smoldering on the ground.
With a strong flick of her wrists and the resounding crack that came from the whip, she struck out against the Hels, catching the first one in its side. The fire burns quickly, catching the birds feathers, keeping it grounded when it attempted to fly away. Maeve doesn't let it suffer, lashing out a second time to put it out of its misery, leaving it smoldering on the ground.
And I was catching my breath
Staring out an open window
catching my death
Staring out an open window
catching my death
