MELITA
There were enough of them to remember, even without Outlander pasts and histories clouding their horizons, their oblivions. They’d lost a great many that Melita probably hadn’t realized or known – much less the ones who’d come before LongNight’s subsequent disasters. Like Emmett. Like Edrei. Like scorching pieces of souls lost and adrift; only coming to a head when those who remained, who stayed behind, had anything left to savor and relish. She wasn’t certain about what anyone else, especially Sunjata, would mull over. Perhaps it wasn’t a grand notion, and she should’ve just kept it to herself. Maybe they had other traditions here she wasn’t aware of, and she’d be stepping on people’s toes.But his statement seemed intrigued, a great idea, and the youth positively glowed under the speculation and triumph, spine a little straighter, a little taller, in the face of something worthwhile, in the meandering of contemplation (a rarity in itself). “We can see if anyone else would be willing, and go from there?” She had no inclination of having a wall only dedicated to two or three people; some of whom didn’t even belong to this land. They’d never had a chance, an opportunity to.
As for his sister, she managed another light round of laughter. “Perhaps she thought the same of you,” which earned itself a wink and a snicker. Melita hadn’t had anyone she thought of as a pain in the ass; Clementine had been sweet and willing to do whatever they yearned and pressed on each given day. Iskra was always there too, bounding along beside them, likely ensuring they wouldn’t be swiftly maimed and murdered in their whimsical pursuits. Kiada was on the reserve list, but quickly dropped down to abhorrence. Not even worth mentioning here and now.
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
