Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Melita had spent a long time in her short life training in a variety of weapons. While she preferred the range of her bow and staff, the youth implemented hand to hand combat on the regular, either with serrated edges or her own damned fists and feet. So there was a glimmer of a smirk as Locke trailed along the water, an impeccable thrill of natural abilities and relishing in capabilities –
And then he came after her blade, instead of her.
Melita was treated to the slightest amount of shock, jaw dropping included, as it sailed into the air, and a merry little plop reeled as it sank into the water. Then she snorted, shaking her head, amused but irritated all at once – at being too cocky, too slow, too overzealous.
While Fangorn went into retrieval mode, the honeybee grabbed the dagger by her lower ankle, and rushed, aiming to duck below Locke’s arms and slash at the clothing gathered along his ribs.
And then he came after her blade, instead of her.
Melita was treated to the slightest amount of shock, jaw dropping included, as it sailed into the air, and a merry little plop reeled as it sank into the water. Then she snorted, shaking her head, amused but irritated all at once – at being too cocky, too slow, too overzealous.
While Fangorn went into retrieval mode, the honeybee grabbed the dagger by her lower ankle, and rushed, aiming to duck below Locke’s arms and slash at the clothing gathered along his ribs.
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
