Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Allowing her restless energy to be consumed by drying dishes, her head tilted vaguely, nodding at the summation of the starwhale – Pemota – all mechanical etchings and designs she’d never quite seen brought to life. It encouraged a little smile along her mouth, but then the other declaration caught her by surprise.
Eyes going to Sila, who’d now made herself at home beside Fangorn as they looked for any crumbs underneath the table, the Honeybee realized she’d missed another aspect of Nate. The war had made them all part ways for various reasons, mostly anger, tirades, and the unfairness of it all, and her brows furrowed again, tone quiet once more. “Oh. I didn’t know that.” Struggling to paint any figment or picture of it in her head, she figured the Flood would have the best answer. “What was Ramoth like?”
Eyes going to Sila, who’d now made herself at home beside Fangorn as they looked for any crumbs underneath the table, the Honeybee realized she’d missed another aspect of Nate. The war had made them all part ways for various reasons, mostly anger, tirades, and the unfairness of it all, and her brows furrowed again, tone quiet once more. “Oh. I didn’t know that.” Struggling to paint any figment or picture of it in her head, she figured the Flood would have the best answer. “What was Ramoth like?”
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
