[SWE] Capturing the Sun

MELITA

It was a little saddening to see Wessex was befuddled and surprised at being granted a gift: something Melita realized she should’ve thought of sooner, well before any festivals. The woman had proffered her training – and what had the honeybee proffered in return? She hemmed and hawed at her own rudeness, but still smiled, vivid and wild, as Wessex scooped them away, accepted them for what they were, little trinkets, bobbled, and lichen. “Really.” The youth laughed, a small puff of air, a bow of her head. “You’re very welcome.”

Then came another surprise: a gift for her, eyes widening upon the massive haunch of venison, watching it swing back and forth on its rope. “Ah!” She giggled again, but extended her arms, ready to accept the meat with little hesitation, hoping she can bear the weight (and if not, then more training was ripe for the future). “Thank you!” Protein. Muscles. It also spoke of a belief in her, that Wessex thought she’d be able to continue conquering and devising, rising to the top, potential and prowess brewing, brooding, beneath her light, slight figure. It was also far more beneficial than her own gift of baubles and plant-life; suddenly wishing she could've come up with something greater, something grander. Her head tilted, gazing upon the taller warrior with a rapt fascination, while Fangorn sniffed at the deer remains, likely hoping to snatch himself a piece. “Are you enjoying the festival?” Her voice was still an ebullient decibel, silly and forthright, the brightest grin ignited across her face.

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