Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
She made a mulish sort of face, half of her nose curled, lips contorted into half a sneer. “Yeah okay, but we didn’t have anything last year,” as far as she could recall. The usual drunken shenanigans on the beach, the sky dark overhead, and no monsters coming to call. “But fine,” hand waving the fixtures away so she could skewer another piece of her steak.
Muttering and uttering around her food, she pondered over complexities. “Could be like..lantern lighting and shit. Like down a path or something. Big ass fires.” Ways to ensure the darkness wasn’t so encroaching, pervading, and overwhelming. That one could reach out their hands and see them, rather than fade deeper into the murk.
At his other question though, she snorted. “Of course. No need to stop those traditions.”
Muttering and uttering around her food, she pondered over complexities. “Could be like..lantern lighting and shit. Like down a path or something. Big ass fires.” Ways to ensure the darkness wasn’t so encroaching, pervading, and overwhelming. That one could reach out their hands and see them, rather than fade deeper into the murk.
At his other question though, she snorted. “Of course. No need to stop those traditions.”
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
