MELITA
The honeybee wondered if there was more being left unsaid under the surface. Visitations. Comforts. Sacrifices. While she didn’t have to deal with these multitudes, her thoughts volleyed back to Nate, to Sunjata, to the quickly growing brood they’d gathered too. Melita was her own island of storms and tempests, of infernos and destruction, and didn’t have to fetter about, worry, about these particulars. Her nose wrinkled slightly, brow furrowing, uncertain of what to do or say about the situation. “Sounds complicated,” she uttered over the ditties of her hums, the complexities not her burden, but certainly something she’d yearn to avoid for the future.“Thank you,” was a nod of gratitude towards Ru’s assistance, and Fangorn’s vines began to pitch in too, casually sifting through the dirt and soil, loam and earth, for the bounty of ash. She blinked for a moment at the question – and then figured the Valkyrie must’ve thought she was with her uncles. “Oh, I’m still staying at the house in Aumakua. I’ve got it pretty much to myself.” Whether or not this was a saddening thing didn’t really occur to her – the vast halls might’ve been empty, but she wasn’t. She didn’t have to tread lightly or carefully around the dramatics of the Flood, and she still continued her smuggling proportions. She hadn't been invited to live with them anyway - not after everything.
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
