MELITA
Discussion of lost loved ones eternally brought out a brand of sorrow Melita never quite knew how to navigate; her own, or anyone else’s. Apologies only went so far, and empathy that much farther, so that it forced the restless energy to become calm and vacant, quiet and subdued; no humming in her chest, no looming chaos in her veins. Instead, she painted and listened, outlining a feral little dragon amidst the lightning strikes while Isla spoke of her assassin, humorous and outgoing, reading novels because the Ascended had been people just as much as the rest of them. Biting down something, she gave a streak into the lizard’s wings, before shifting her eyes towards the braid and Ancient. Sparkbirds and wars, shirts plaited into the periphery, and probably nothing else to remember the man by. The youth thought of the little remains she’d seen amidst the Grounds, how she longed to topple that fucking tower, and how, even after years thereafter, there’d still been scorch marks in the earth. “I’m sorry,” she murmured again, as it joined the legions of others uttered throughout the past. It didn’t change anything, and they were still gone.
Nate was another figure lost and turned over in complexity. He’s been good to her and Sunjata, but she wasn’t certain about all the others he’d harmed along the way. Stormbreak’s notions settled in her gut and she didn’t give them the voice to shudder over the wake, not when Isla already seemed to be altering. “Yeah,” came on a token agreement, and she began to add more color to the companion in the sky, trying desperately to find alternate routes and paths. “Do you live around here now?”
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
