MELITA
Melita had once spent moments upon her mother’s lap, or just below, watching as she sewed. Dresses had been brought to life from simple fabric, adorned for her sister and herself, and she’d stared on in fascinated rapture at the nimble, gentle fingers, at the speed, at the familiar and comfortable swiftness. Had the Honeybee been given more time with her family, perhaps she might have picked up on that talent too.Instead, she’d learned to sew stitches into skin and close open lacerations, to survive amidst butchery and extend her own. Which helped and aided in some regards, as she closed holes in her poor, torn-apart vestiges, but still ricocheted loudly when she began to construct something for the upcoming spring ball..thing.
“Fuck,” she whispered to herself as another prick of her needle pierced her finger’s skin, and she began to wonder if she should’ve picked out crimson cloth, just so bloodstains wouldn’t be so apparent. Wiping it off on the rock she currently sat upon, she gave Sila and Fangorn a look. “You can’t even tell, right?” She held it up for them to see, where there was still multitudes of sleeves, trim, and whatever else to apply. Fangorn grimaced and Sila sighed, so the youth hissed and continued, persisted, head bent over the material.
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
