MELITA
Melita wondered if it just wanted to be left alone, out in the cold, away from prying eyes and vicious potential; if it was just as tired as the rest of them, if it meandered away from upheaval, insurrection, and treachery. Perhaps it simply existed, like so many other things, taken and stirred and triumphed over, or coasting, ghosting along, long since lost its way. A part of her heart felt sorry for it, and the other portion wished she hadn’t come at all, the intrigue, interest, and inquiry fluttering away on the fans and plumes of sorrow. Her eyes lingered downward as Jigano’s fox form pressed against her ankles, stretching downward to offer a scratch to both vulpine and neighboring griffin.Then she lifted her gaze, Fangorn still in her arms, as the massive creature deigned to move, maybe to better worlds, maybe to brighter ambitions; and a bristling contortion flickered over her as Phoebe deigned to screech and holler at it. Leave it alone she thought, a rankling edge settling over her jaw, a touch of the blighted insinuations and rage brandished within her skull, a sharp inhale expanding her chest. Fangorn shifted back towards her, attempted to be comforting, and she only followed to see what would happen next, if someone had to be stopped, if she was going to be the one to protect a maneuvering piece of animated snow.
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
