MELITA
“Pfff,” she uttered with a vague wave of her hand; probably because no one would have to ask how she’d become Ludo’s demigod. The herald had likely pinpointed her early for likeminded catastrophes and bedlam. At impending doom hovering over Talyson though, she gave another Cheshire grin, the impishness reaching her eyes with a clearly demonic semblance of glee. “Well, if you ever need backup,” she flickered over her own incantations, becoming invisible a moment, a method she preferred nowadays for the capability of sheer shitfuckery, “you know who to ask.” She reappeared soon after, making finger guns for emphasis.
Starfall was another matter that didn’t send her any glee; save for the thought of blowing it sky-high. “Safrin tried, didn’t she?” Hadn’t that been encased amongst the warnings? “Though that was on her own.” And that they were stronger and more capable than the goddess wasn’t really comforting. “Maybe they can’t?” Like they had some godly code or some shit. Theorizing wasn’t Melita’s strong suit, to be fair, but she glanced back at Flora as if to compare notes or hear disapproval.
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
