MELITA
Melita had never been one for calculations – not when derived sometimes on mere impulses. But she was a scrutinizing, observant creature, given how she’d survived for so long, and her eyes immediately went to the hollowed-out fiddle, the recognition of lanterns being brought to some forefront and all the losses intermingled in between. From what she knew of the woman before her, Isla had lost a lot. Something they both shared, even if it was only in passing.Save for now.
Isla screeched something overheard and stayed so, flapping her leathery wings and taking on another warm thermal. Fangorn waved his vines again, rumbling and rolling back towards the Honeybee to make space, while Melita nodded. “Right. I’ve heard some about you,” and her smile wasn’t an unkind thing, but perhaps a bit teasing, mildly feral. “Go ahead. Plenty of room.”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
