MELITA
The feeling of uselessness didn’t sit well with her, uncomfortable, jarring, grating on her nerves, sitting there, doing naught while Quanil worked. Fangorn’s rapid purr and the wine helped though, so she watched as Quanil placed the artifacts and objects where they were meant to be. “It looks good,” a proclamation made after a moment of quick perusal and study, following the plains and lines of everything else looped together. She sipped, sighing a little, when Quanil’s inquiry came across – her eyes immediately going to her staff. “Sure.” Her smile grew impish, a daring, emboldened thing, mulling over Jigano’s insinuations as if they might be a source of pride. “I won’t go easy on you though.”
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
