MELITA
“It’s a new variant!” she added over the sound of their makeshift current and waves lapping into the wall. Her merriment intermingled with some other emboldened designs, pleased to note that despite his rumblings, he hadn’t shied away. In the back of her mind perhaps she’d known he wouldn’t, because that wasn’t how Iskra was, and any misgivings threatening to mire their way into her brain simply vanished under the guise of their diversions. Games and entertainment before something else, her intentions delving into further onslaught when the moment was right.The notion of trade sent another plunge of laughter, chiming and echoing along the thrall of their inane chase. “Nah,” wove with a handwave as she rose out of the water, and on a shrug, tossed the remains of her top over to their towel (where Fangorn now rested; stomach full of easily snagged insects). With far more care, she placed down the shorts, then aimed to unfurl the rest of her devious plans.
Except then he’d flung more water at her, and she could only gasp loudly as the splashes hit her, sputtering slightly as they galvanized rampant sedition and pooled down the rest of her body. “All right, fine by me!” should’ve been a loud warning alongside her boast – taking off at a dead run, before launching, then curling her legs towards her chest in a cannonball meant to plunge right beside him.
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
