MELITA
The Honeybee could imagine Jack sailing the Ark to the Grounds for five minutes, before being bored to death and turning around. There were likely more facets there – beyond wretched woods where banshees lurked or stretches of dilapidated farmland, but the youth hadn’t been there since the Ascended had taken over, and then perished. Years could’ve stretched it to something substantial, and she knew Darkeye was trying…She shrugged her shoulders, eyes watching the heavy stitchwork as she scratched Fangorn’s head, listened to the sound of Sila’s soft breathing around her shoulders. The question brought her out of the melancholy mood for a moment, if only to remember reality. Because the Dragon’s Throat was where she’d been born, where she was from, and somehow reclaiming the crimson sand and the sprawl of leathery wings was better than the notions of the Grounds. “Yeah, it's where we were all shuffled in.” Taken, was probably a better statement. “Are you hoping to find anything there?” Business likely wasn’t booming.
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
