MELITA
Her first discovery of the memory mud was out of pure amusement – striking her staff into random puddles on an outward stroll, simply getting away from clustered halls and rancorous edges, striving to find something suitable to relax into repose. Her limbs were fluid and energetic, exuberant efforts skipping along spring-strewn paths, examining several portions of earth that would require cleaning, utilizing her weapon like a walking stick, when it simply sunk.The youth’s head twisted downwards, and watched as the mud appeared to interact with her munitions, spiraling along its handle, witnessing in rapt fascination as it appeared to have a (simple) mind of its own. She poked it once or twice, before flinging her staff and watching the mud droplets cascade into the air, raining grime; laughing all the more as the watery ground seemed to fold back together, starting anew. “Huh,” she murmured, mostly to Fangorn, who meandered around it, close but not close enough to be suddenly sunken into its depths. Melita shrugged and carried on, looking along the distance – when her eyes pinpointed on a tall, familiar form.
“Sunjata!” She cried across the landscape, waving, hooting, and hollering, a loud din along plains and strangled trees with new saplings in tow; steps springing once more as she tread closer and closer, fast and fervent, strides adept at quick, swift maneuvers. Fangorn kept up as best he could, leaping and launching over softer ground. “Have you seen this mud-,” the girl didn’t finish, tilting her head in eager curiosity, as he unearthed something from the aforementioned soil.
An egg.
Some distant memory of crackling lightning and massive thunder boomed against her heart, and she said nothing at first, inching closer and closer, until she was peeking over his arm. “What did you find?” was a whisper amongst an ebullient, exuberant, exultant grin.
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
