MELITA
She wasn’t entirely certain who was more irritating or obnoxious; she’d died before too, after all, and lately the Flood had been quiet when it came to his own dramatics. Other than fighting the void and the Family, she couldn’t say there’d been too many dastardly antics – unless she was simply ignorant of all of that too. Standing there as if she were the precipice of innocence though, she batted her eyelashes on many pretenses, gave a quick grin. “Mm. Probably the best judge of that would be Ru,” she winked, not bothering to ignore the presumption of bias. “But it should be pretty good.” If not, they could probably give it to someone else without her much the wiser.The Captain’s preamble though left far more in the dark than in the open. “Ah.” Stone-cold Jack struck again – leaving out a multitude of details no one would likely be able to pry from him. Shame, really, the Honeybee would’ve appreciated the amplified ends of the gossip. What she would’ve done with the information though, really, didn’t much matter. Dead ends and all that.
Her brow arched over the implications of him and Jack having something ‘good’ going during his tenure in Torchline, recalling how that had ended up after treacherous dealings of other kinds. If he wanted to turn King’s End into its own bastion of underbelly notions, she’d have nothing to say on it – just wondering, really, if it would turn into those denizens Torchline had already occupied. If there’d be competition. If things would knot and gnarl and be ridiculous, or nothing at all. She wouldn’t be surprised if barrows suddenly became tunneling, specious, smuggling additions too – or if some of those channels had already found more than empty space. “Gotcha.”
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
