MELITA
Her concentration on her next project, bending and shaping some twigs and twine into antlers, almost went entirely out the window at the series of questions. Melita had always thought herself somewhat chatty and enthusiastic, but it might’ve died down in the last few months, and was nothing compared to Quanil’s list of inquiries. She lifted her head again from her perusal, eyes widening as the litany labored on, and she could really only pick and choose which ones to snag onto before the next came sailing by. “I was born in Helovia, in the Dragon’s Throat.” Her hands gestured to the painting she had above her desk – the scene adorned with vivid, red sands, with dragons flying, with the oasis flooding the backdrop. “My father must’ve traveled there at some point, and met my mother.” No fantastic love story there – one night stands producing twins he didn’t want anything to do with – the comparison to butterflies making her smile, out of the rut she could feel herself falling into. Those would probably be more like her sibling - beautiful and majestic, gentle and kind. She was the honeybee, destined to sting and protect. “No. Helovia was destroyed. My mother sacrificed herself to get my sister and I out.” A long tale that seemingly had no end; puncturing and piercing their way through the Rift, until Melita lost Clementine too. She was certain she’d missed some, but with the rapid-fire munitions, it was difficult not too. Hopefully they’d cycle back through if there were certain answers they truly wanted. “He’s a fun uncle.” Who taught her strings of curses in Korofian and never held her back.
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
