MELITA
There was always time; that’s what she’d believed when she was a child, enamored by the most trivial of things, dancing and skipping and bounding through fields, caves, rivers, and oceans, embracing what she could savor, craving everything else thereafter. But then she’d be stunned in those instances where entire worlds shattered, tossed and thrown into pits and pendulums, saved by their mother’s sacrifice, no time left at all. Her eyes fell to Fangorn, to nothing monumental at all – unaware of what was to come and who else was to be regarded on that wall, incapable of prophesizing, eternally fortune’s fool. They would have something, and for her, for now, that was all there was to it.She grinned at his following wink, the notions of unleashing all her vitriol and vehemence on someone again such a relishing ease in her refrains; tilting her head in response to his inquiry, as if labored by the notion, by further thoughts on her Korofian education. “Both, perhaps? My communication skills shouldn’t be all slander,” and she laughed; despite the prospect of just that being a hilarious edge to her actions.
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
