MELITA
Maybe because she came from a world where women and men had equal power, the youth couldn’t quite wrap her head around some poor dame not having a choice other than kind fathers and good husbands; Melita didn’t have the former, and she still managed to survive, on her own laurels, on her own wits, on her own merits, perseverance and endurance a staple of her existence and entity. “That’s too bad,” she proffered in a shrug, pondering over ways she would’ve helped or tried to render herself out of such a situation. Perhaps it was a good thing it was only a tale, and not entrenched in truths.Melita bounded onward though, as they came to the other side of billowing, restless fog, her eyes toying with the convictions, immersed in its labyrinthine quality, before they hastened back the way they’d come. She wanted to announce to Lily of her bravery in the moment – but decided she’d wait until they returned to the proper sides before unveiling the lengths she’d already gone. Tapping her chin in a sort of rogue delight, entertained that Lily had been entertained, she continued on with her spooky ministrations, of a time before her own. “Paranoia grew rampant. The bodies continued, despite all the investigations. It woudn’t be long before friends turned one another, convinced that if they could find a scapegoat, then maybe the murders would stop. Maybe the nightmares would end.” Her gaze pierced over to the singer, mischievous. “Then one day, the clues became clearer, and their convictions turned to one man: the King of the draconic land, Gaucho the Wildfire.” She stopped there for future dramatic effect, because, if she recalled the legend correctly, Gaucho’s involvement had been a huge surprise, but with a spectacular twist – no one comprehending how or why someone noble and powerful would’ve started slaying others with no distinction, no reason, no assertion.
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
