MELITA
Her hands and mind were distracted, fingers picking through rocks with no clear ambition, placing a few brighter stones into the bag, feeling the weight and shuffle of the rocks already laden within. A couple more found their way in too, and it was a repeated pattern until the sack left heavy, and she dropped it into the dirt, pretending to sift through and pry into the contents while struggling to maintain semblances of composure. “Three,” she murmured, holding up the indicated fingers, a lopsided grin indicating she was striving to keep it together. “But I still have Sunjata.” A shrug, as if this was nothing at all, when it was far more than she could hope for nowadays.While she picked along the pebbles, casting some out when she realized she didn’t like them quite as much as the others, her gilded gaze lifted back up to the singer; a contortion sad, and the other accepting – too late to back now, to change, to alter anything. She’d seen the results of that firsthand. “Me too.”
Then, because this conversation had been mostly about her, she shook her head, long locks cascading in haphazard ripples, and scratched Fangorn’s head. “What about your family?” What had Lily left behind, when she was taken from her home?
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
