MELITA
Instead of bounding and leaping into the fray, per her normal routine, she crept in quietly, eyes catching the waves of people milling and floating about. The most important factor was the information provided here – if she ever brought herself to machinating, devising, and scheming, rather than rushing headlong into reckless abandon. Fangorn meandered behind her as they wandered around, striving to find a spot not isolated, amidst groups, so she could catch whispers, growls, hisses, or pleas. Then her gaze latched onto the Queen, the one who’d tossed her glowstone up and down by the oasis, and she fought between a snarl and impassiveness; not certain where to place her heart or her soul, but the apprehension was there, a gut instinct, grown from the layers of brutality life had tossed upon her.
Her feet took her near Ronin and the larger group of familiar beings, but she subtly waved to Rexanna (way up at the front - why), before lingering amidst the fold, waiting for whatever proclamation, question, concern, or drama destined to unfold.
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
