MELITA
Melita had meant to guile him into it; lure and entice where, ignorantly on her part, she didn’t need to. Half of the wonder were her own insecurities anyway, banking on amusements in between their misunderstandings and tying off the bewilderment with a new form of patience. But sometimes she wanted to hear that echo and refrain, have it in the palm of her hands or on her mouth or somewhere etched along them so there was no need to second guess. Jokes delayed a crushing blow, dazzling grins manifested in ease and earnest and hope and all those other filaments that collided and connected in her ribcage. He hadn’t been put off by demigodhood and he’d only been confused by the intertwining of multitudes of information all at once, but then sometimes she wondered if it was just too much. So the allure of fun, frenzy, and stupidity called and beckoned; clambered around her ears just as much as wanting him there. Freedom, liberation, from others and quests, to have one another in whatever shape they craved or needed. Giggling already at the prospect of antics, his own buoyant laughter echoing around the rocks and lanterns set her bewitched little heart at a steady pace. “Mm. Dickwad could be one. Fuckhead, another personal favorite.” Variations could be transposed and crisscrossed over the material, but she had her doubts – her gaze floating to the shorts in question, then to the man, the telltale gaze sharp and wanton.
Watching him watching her, as it turned out – because while she’d seen him in the reaches of Halo, nothing much compared to when he was reflected in fire, muscles and flesh and everything else taut in hues of embers and heat. Naked beside a hearth. Wrapped up in one another on his wood floor. Here in Torchline though, there was not much to be hidden either, and she had him all to herself again, cultivating favors in lights and water. Her appreciation might’ve been quiet too, but certainly unmasked; gaze raking over him like coals, down to her teeth pressed over her bottom lip, before grinning, ducking away beneath the surface of the pool.
She took advantage of his own observations not quite reaching all synapses; cackling like a witch as he was startled from his staring. The promise of vengeance didn’t bother her as much, she knew he wouldn’t let it stand, and so silenced her giggling for reaching below as the veneer was shattered by his cannonball exposition. The waves ricocheted regardless, so when she returned to air it still sloshed over her, careening and bouncing back from the rocky walls. “Hey, do you have water magic?” she screeched as he came towards her, because if so, she had plenty of other opportunities up her sleeve, but then she was careening towards the opposing shoreline, kicking her feet deliberately to ensue massive splashes in his wake.
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
