Emberwood i cry a lot, but i am so productive - it's an art

Lilitu was a very tolerant soul. She could take the extra slobber and the strange way the woman spoke—as if talking through a mouthful of meat—and she could even bear it within the context of summer heat.

What she would not abide, though, was what she saw as a self-deprecatory nickname.

I have a name, Lilitu spat, brows knitted tight together. How would you like it if I called you 'Mush-Mouth,' or 'Ugly-Face'? Totally rude.

She got up to leave, and would only turn back if, somehow, the woman made a compelling argument for her to do so.