MELITA
Not the only portal was enough to seize her attention, ponder over what remained to be seen, the curiosity entangling, unraveling, bursting at her through seams of skin and flesh. Would she see her deserts again? Or the ocean, bright, beatific waves beating at the heart of the earth? The possibilities seemed vast and endless, exactly as she’d wished and wanted, glorious in their range, in their wide-open skies. Perhaps it would remain to be seen, after dust settled, after reckonings were completed, after trial after trial amounted to something more than just anger, acrimony, and hostilities. She shrugged at his teasing, at his wink, lofting one of her own smirks and snickers, an embrace into sedition. “I guess we’ll find out.” Thereafter though, the task seemed complete – he’d grab hold of water – something he didn’t require, and then he was gone; like a ghost, like a wraith. “Good luck!” She called out over the horizon, in the direction of the shanty and notes, tugging her weaponry back into place, glancing at Fangorn at her heels. “Ready?” And then they were off again, her staff in hand, as if the entire scenario were a mirage, a realm of her imagination.
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
