MELITA
Not a single word of protest fell from her lips as she was fussed over (both things a rarity), displaying the level of shock still running rampant through her system. There were a few muted nods in between, as the older woman went to work, the anguished pain beginning to recede, slowly, carefully, arching away from her mind. The directions, though clear and concise, weren’t something she wanted to readily adhere to, but she understood just the same. “Thank you,” nodding again to the healer as she receded into the background. Quanil’s concern was sweet, but something in the whole ridiculous situation made her want to balk and fight just out of normalcy. “I’m okay. Surprised is all. Thank you for helping.” Irritated she’d been an ineffectual mess when the glass had broken, when everything had shattered around her. She maneuvered a little to grab Fangorn and hold him in her lap, the gentle purr and reverberations a comfort. “Um, sure.” Maybe she did need a drink.
Then she spied her items, her artifacts, her memorials on the floor, not harmed, but displayed amongst the glass. She immediately began to rise, intending to pick them up and follow through on her plans of hanging them, and then helping to clean.
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
