MELITA
Ordinarily Melita wouldn’t have found refuge in a bar – but it was the people within it, the newly-formed conflagration of family and their extensions, that spurned and brought her forward, into its midst. Upon the announcement that VlamVloed was ready, after all their preparations, after all their incensed losses, after construction and repairs, the girl followed through on her typical ebullience and exuberance, a layer of fine defiance fully stoked on her skin. She wouldn’t allow Sunjata to be buried and burrowed into his sorrow, and she’d rise along the surface of this threshold with her head held high and her ambitions, her aspirations, incensed.As if she’d belonged there for eternity, she pushed through the doors and glanced around, announcing her presence with a loud cheer, a raucous delight. “Ah, beautiful! Looks like you had some good help in getting this place going,” the latter statement on a wink extended to Sunjata, to little Haai waiting in the wings, Fangorn hissing and grumbling. Then she was deterred, briefly, by Jigano’s presence, clambering her way over to the bard, then to her own makeshift corner - hers, hers, hers, as if she’d never had her own possession before. She laid down her bag on the desk, a claim if anything else, while Fangorn growled towards his nest, uncertain of what lay within. “Well done.”
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
