MELITA
There was a point in Lily’s first statement that she wanted to argue, because Melita hadn’t thought she’d done much for him at all. Perhaps she was a steadier point in his life, something far more stalwart, rooted, and fortified than many other counterparts, but he didn’t really need her in his life. What was she, other than a spitfire, and petulant, catty thing at times? So she lowered her gaze for a moment, thinking, mulling it over, furrowing those brows while staring out over the shoreline. “Maybe,” she laughed, uncertain what fortune she’d brought with her at all.But then it was Lily’s turn to share, and she riveted her eyes back to the other redhead, intent to listen. She’d never really heard anything about Lily’s portions, pieces, and fragments of home, wincing at the notion that she was sold (as if naught more than property), and the girl was frozen in those perilous ventures. How would that feel, to someone so young? What would she have done, if her mother hadn’t been so kind, so gentle, so loving, so forgiving? “I’m sorry that happened to you,” was a murmur.
What came afterwards made up for all of it though – extension of hands, where her fingers clasped in return, and her mouth widened into a grin. “Yes, we choose our families here.” Like a vow, like an assurance, of the bonds between friends and allies, when blood couldn’t be found or wasn’t enough. She’d want Lily for a sibling too – older and wiser and beautiful, conquering and taking – ready to sink her teeth into whatever came next. “So what’s stopping us?” Melita winked (nothing - nothing ever would). “You’re officially my older sister.”
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
