05-28-2021, 05:31 PM
Dammit.
A drop of rain slipped through the boughs of the tree she was sheltering under and plinked onto her face. Better to be ducking under the shelter of an evergreen than outside in the sheeting rain, but it was far from enough to sate Melia’s thoughts. She had already been robbed of her purpose, had already had most of her powers disappear into thin air, and as if things couldn’t get any worse, spring had decided to pour its worst into the land below.
The former warlord’s daughter scowled at the state of things outside her small hideaway. Not like she cared too much that she had gotten soaked (Hell, if she had some objective, something to do, she probably would have walked through it as it was), but in her particular mood today, she didn’t particularly feel like getting drenched.
Green eyes narrowed at the ashen skies. She had once been something, had once been a fighter beside her father as the only child he found respect for. They had defended what was theirs, but he’d disappeared. She had tried to hold up in his absence (It wasn’t the first time he’d left, and Melia thought it wouldn’t be the last), but as time stretched onward, those who called their chilled mountainous territory home had dispersed.
Weeks stretched into seasons, and Melia became sure of one thing: He wasn’t coming back.
Without him, there was no reason to remain. So she’d left. She’d left, striking out at anyone who dared to look at her, trying to find something to keep her occupied. She picked fights, and ran until she thought she’d finally burned her anger out. That was the one thing that her experience hiding from the rain enlightened her on. She was still pissed, it just wasn’t a seething rage that she had no idea what to do with anymore. It was a simmer, on the backburner. Still very real, but buried far deeper.
The buckskin scowled as the rain kept coming down. She wanted to move along, but apparently the weather had other ideas. Another drop hit her ear before it disappeared into her raven tresses, and she found all the curses she could to describe the situation as it continued pouring down.
At least it wasn’t like things could get much worse.
A drop of rain slipped through the boughs of the tree she was sheltering under and plinked onto her face. Better to be ducking under the shelter of an evergreen than outside in the sheeting rain, but it was far from enough to sate Melia’s thoughts. She had already been robbed of her purpose, had already had most of her powers disappear into thin air, and as if things couldn’t get any worse, spring had decided to pour its worst into the land below.
The former warlord’s daughter scowled at the state of things outside her small hideaway. Not like she cared too much that she had gotten soaked (Hell, if she had some objective, something to do, she probably would have walked through it as it was), but in her particular mood today, she didn’t particularly feel like getting drenched.
Green eyes narrowed at the ashen skies. She had once been something, had once been a fighter beside her father as the only child he found respect for. They had defended what was theirs, but he’d disappeared. She had tried to hold up in his absence (It wasn’t the first time he’d left, and Melia thought it wouldn’t be the last), but as time stretched onward, those who called their chilled mountainous territory home had dispersed.
Weeks stretched into seasons, and Melia became sure of one thing: He wasn’t coming back.
Without him, there was no reason to remain. So she’d left. She’d left, striking out at anyone who dared to look at her, trying to find something to keep her occupied. She picked fights, and ran until she thought she’d finally burned her anger out. That was the one thing that her experience hiding from the rain enlightened her on. She was still pissed, it just wasn’t a seething rage that she had no idea what to do with anymore. It was a simmer, on the backburner. Still very real, but buried far deeper.
The buckskin scowled as the rain kept coming down. She wanted to move along, but apparently the weather had other ideas. Another drop hit her ear before it disappeared into her raven tresses, and she found all the curses she could to describe the situation as it continued pouring down.
At least it wasn’t like things could get much worse.