MELITA
Being careful had never been the girl’s strong suit, and she stared across the counter at the interaction – the gourd refusing to give in. While Fangorn rushed along, intending to grapple as well, Melita heaved a heavy sigh, and went looking for a basket. She removed the remnants of food within it, intending to put it back later, and then maneuvered forward, carrying the object in her hands, indifferent to the tinier squash, either too tired or well over all the proceedings to give much of a care. Within a moment, she lowered the basket on top of the gourd, and sat down upon it, intending to keep the menacing plant-life at bay, and from evading. “There. Do we have any way to grab it, maybe, and chuck it outside?” Preferably, far, far away, in the distant woods, placing her chin in her hands while the basket tried to move beneath her - angry, hissing noises coming from within.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
