[seasonal event] the chorus will come in

MELITA

The cacophony continued, streamlined from Roana to her children, suddenly all bombarding and echoing their way through the arcane columns, new and old, fresh and foreign, innate and golden. She watched, hardly rattled or baffled by the discord (for it was amongst her own bloodline to outcry and roar, like a lion, like a beast, like a monster), somewhat amused when one of the boys approached her and Fangorn, appreciative of the gourd. The pumpkin grimaced and hissed in response, and Melita rolled her eyes, patting the top of her companion’s head in a subtle scratch. “Don’t mind Fangorn,” she whispered to the youth. “He’s shy.” Then she winked, and postured her attention back to Roana.

A Fae tradition. She hadn’t ever really heard much of the Fae – she always imagined restless, toying spirits, eager to share their deceptions and melodies, fervent to embolden the world in upheaval and grace. She’d yet to meet one, despite the barrier coming down, but perhaps that would come in time too, and her curiosity could be sated for few moments. Making a basket sounded a little daunting, but if she could manifest beams of wood and assist in constructing places for Spark Birds to land, a basket shouldn’t be too difficult. Capturing the sun itself seemed otherworldly and ethereal, exactly as the Fae likely intended, and she wrinkled her nose at the way it was worded, at the intricacy layered beneath. Entertain Safrin. Big celebration. There were many pieces, but there’d always been – the seasons streamlined from one to the next, and she had so many inquiries and questions to follow upon – but lo and behold, the moment Roana lifted her basket, Melita peeked in, noted the fringes of sunlight illuminating the bottom of the wicker, and she wanted to do it too – have the sun in her hands, hers to hold for seconds and snippets. “Oh,” she breathed, impressed and reverent all at once. “How did you do it?”

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