MELITA
The unknown was a bewildering stature, especially if it harpooned and shaped its way as dual minds; set in stone, in new, foreign embraces, trusted and secure but confusing, bewildering, all the same. “You’re bonded.” Deeper and intrinsic, between veins and marrow, tissue and skin, flesh and bone. She smiled at first, slightly teasing, prolonging the inevitable, the explanation, the bizarre correlation with human and animal – designated to be woven and intertwined, hearts and craniums shared, beating the same drum, the same tendencies, the same heartaches, the same wounds and scars. Fangorn growled in approval at the notion, while her eyes drifted onto the newfound griffin, with its teeth and daring, with its boldness and audacity, perfection in the roots of wings and fangs. She nodded at the further insinuations, at the way Sunjata meandered in the platitude. “Yes!” Her head tilted, watching, waiting, for the understanding, the comprehension, to sink in. “Sometimes their emotions, or their thoughts. You’ll be connected for life.” She hummed a little, under her breath, a satisfied, happy, bubbly tune, reserved for those grand, beatific moments, contentment, satisfaction still hovering over and around his shoulder to wait, to ponder, to mull over the situation. The youth wasn’t certain if he was pleased, confused, or simply trying to contemplate it all, never a situation to be eased into – swift and coursing, strong and befuddling, overwhelming and shocking even in the most accepting of minds.
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
