MELITA
Fangorn was a bit more practical and quieter than the dragon; it had ensured his survival before Melita had come into his life. By his careful means, the gourd snatched at the snowflakes with his vines, and then bounded forward, smaller and lighter than Aidon, but still trying to make as many marks in the snow as he could. Flattened proportions from his presence were then sketched into something else with the trailing, snaking proportions of the vines again, challenging the fellow companion to a game of feral, silly designs.While the creatures kept themselves occupied and content, Melita’s own gaze searched the perimeter and expanse with an air of wonder – gilded stare incapable of picking just one direction. Only a few had ever been allowed permission here years before, and she certainly hadn’t been amongst them – even if her efforts had helped save and salvage. She’d earned other rewards, and used them well.
If Maeve hadn’t been speaking to her, she might’ve meandered and wandered off simply by way of distraction – turning and twisting back over with a light-hearted grin at the agreement and accord of hues. “A little,” she murmured at the question, a half-hearted shrug to her shoulders. “With the rest of my family moving, there won’t be many left to give to.” If that sounded sad, she strived not to show it. “Maybe I’ll get something for Milo for putting up with me.” She tilted her head vaguely, the mischief returning. “What about you?”
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
