Mella🐝
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mellabeekeeper.bsky.social
Mella🐝
@mellabeekeeper.bsky.social
I do not know why i apparently need this.
Don’t come to the woods.

// RP account for #thebandghost
dms open- nsfw at times - minors dni
Hm. It is nice to see you as well,
my friend.

When will you visit next hm? The bees miss your buzz. The raspberry mead is almost ready for drinking.
November 24, 2025 at 4:52 AM
Yes?
November 24, 2025 at 3:19 AM
Hm.

Fine then.
November 23, 2025 at 8:34 PM
You expect this for free?
November 23, 2025 at 5:56 PM
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“Who is your summoner?”She asks, looking at Swamp over the rim of her glasses.
November 22, 2025 at 4:16 PM
“I have been around too long for them to care. As long as I do my job they don’t cause a fuss.”

She had finished her soup at this point, leaning back in her chair and sipping on her mead. She was on her second glass, didn’t look like she was feeling it yet.
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November 22, 2025 at 4:16 PM
“My *deal?*” She asks, possibly unsure of what that means but she gets the context clues. “I bee keep. Where do you think all of the Ministries honey and beeswax comes from?”
November 22, 2025 at 1:23 AM
“Hm. Very well.” Seemingly the answer to both statements as she focuses back on her food and drink.

Was she. Really not going to press at all? That’s new.
November 22, 2025 at 12:27 AM
The older woman laughs, half scoffs. “I am glad for you that that is all you believe is out here. Why did you really go for a walk boy? Your soul is heavy.”

The soft crackle of the fire place fills the space between them, the soft whistling of wind against the window glass.
November 21, 2025 at 11:53 PM
// she’s so grandma i hate her
November 21, 2025 at 11:44 PM
Mella takes note of their enjoyment.
Hm. She cuts a big slice out of the loaf of bread and places it next to Swamp.

“Hm. You’d be careful not to next time. We are not the only things out here.” And takes a hearty sip of her mead.
November 21, 2025 at 11:43 PM
-cold out in her forest. She couldn’t say she minded the company though. Swamp was quiet too, she appreciated that.

“Why do you walk in the woods this late?” She asks, dipping the bread in the bowl to soak up some broth.
November 21, 2025 at 10:32 PM
“Swamp.” She repeats “I am Mella.” With that simple greeting she sits, ripping of a chunk of bread to enjoy with her soup.

She looked relieved to finally be sitting. The day had been long, and sure she does usually enjoy her nights alone but she couldn’t sleep knowing there was someone lost and-
November 21, 2025 at 10:32 PM
- and pours all three glasses a serving.

The third bowl and cup get placed on in the center of an alter on the back wall of the room. An aged silver statue of The Goat with ruby eyes glimmers as the offerings are placed.

With that she returns to the table and hands Swamp its glass. “Your name?”
November 21, 2025 at 6:16 PM
The witch pours out a bowl of stew for herself, a bowl for her guest, and a third bowl. She brings over the meal along with sliced bread and three cups. Two simple glasses, and one made of polished silver.

She takes the bottle from Swamp with an approving hum, she likes the berry mead too,
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November 21, 2025 at 6:16 PM
// supposed flavor **
November 21, 2025 at 3:34 AM
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What looks like hand drawn labels on them of the supposed. Some bottles with depictions of lavender, some with berries, etc,

The witch stays busy with the stew, adding in whatever final ingredients and making sure the consistency is right.
November 21, 2025 at 3:33 AM
“Would you like to pick out a bottle of mead, then?” She asks, either not picking up on or ignoring the sass in their voice. “The rack by the stairs is all ready to drink.”

A small rack filled with a few glass bottles sits by the stairs like she said. They all are slightly different in color
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November 21, 2025 at 3:33 AM
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some herbs drying on a shelf a takes a few sprigs, giving them a quick chop before tossing them into the pot for Swamp to stir in.

After pulling down some other spices she takes back her spoon, “Good, set the table.”
November 21, 2025 at 1:50 AM
To their surprise, the wooden floors weren’t all that cold. The fire must have been going for a while. As they take her place by the stove she goes over to throw in a fresh log.

The stew smells delectable, all kinds of veggies, potatoes, what smelt like braised beef.

The woman pulls down
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November 21, 2025 at 1:50 AM
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motioning Swamp over. “Come. Stir this.” Holding out the wooden spoon for it to take. Whatever was in that pot smelt. Amazing.
November 21, 2025 at 12:45 AM
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The other down toward the cellar. It all looked like Swamp was on the set for some medieval movie, the fire place burning, everything looking hand made, not a hint of modern tech in sight.

The woman walks to the stove, opening up a pot and giving it a stir. She gives it a quick taste before
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November 21, 2025 at 12:45 AM