MELITA
She grinned when he jumped, relishing the menacing quality she sometimes exhibited, but presented herself primly upon sitting down; innocent air only withstanding so much before reality was back into play. “Mhm,” and she briefly rustled through her pockets, before producing a piece of parchment with her rudimentary designs on it. Unfolding and flattening it before the crafter, he’d be able to see two Pegasus drawn upon the paper, with long outstretched wings and various things noted on the sides; including colors, hues, and blends. “I was wondering if you could make these molds, but with wings that moved on their own? Only about this big,” and she indicated the distance between her hands, large enough to be considered model size. She’d seen the talent he worked on his butterflies – though those were no longer living. One might consider this aspect the same, but they’d be token artifacts and pieces of the past, carved out of memory and stories. “And then I can paint them,” at which she smiled again, pleased with herself. “Name your price, of course.” She paused, considering something else. “How’ve you been?”
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
