MELITA
The excitement and ebullience throughout the little griffin only instigated more rapture, more reverence, more giggle fits, her hands instinctively chasing after the little thing’s movements, as if it on the hunt and provoking further mayhem. “Oh, she’s better than all right.” Half-tempted to lift the babe to her features just to stare into her innocent eyes, her gaze locked onto the unfolding, ensuring antics thereafter. A protective threshold took over her chest for half a second as a paw came to press against Fangorn’s forehead, but when the gourd did nothing but sniff, but snort, but hiss and grumble in play, than her breath eased, the tension no longer held. The vampire gourd did much of the same, a proud, prominent display of its fangs in full endeavors and unleashed havoc rampaged into the scene, leaning forward on a rather ghoulish smile. Her gaze meandered back to Sunjata, who’d grown quiet, any designation of a smile somehow faded. Had she caused it? Her mind cycled back to prior words, about never being alone, pondering if that had orchestrated the slip and slide of amusement; the hushed platitudes taking its place. Maybe it’d been too much – and she hadn’t meant it in that way.
Just that she knew what it meant to be alone, drifting in the shadows.
Just that he didn’t have to be that way anymore, not with little sharks and fangs and teeth.
Her head hung too, a little quieter, following the patterns, wondering why it had become so morose. It should’ve been a celebratory occasion, a happy, content, accord. “Sorry,” for what, she’d really not sure.
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
