MELITA
Rumors were funny things; like myths and caricatures all at once. The Honeybee only knew bits and pieces of sentiments and sediments of Isla – way back from Hollowed Grounds where death lingered, and then eventually struck again, only to be revived and renewed. What must it be like, she wondered, to come back time after time? Or what kind of person could, when they’d likely already suffered in a thousand other intervals?She knew her mother, her sister, and all the other lanterns arranged around her couldn’t – but she’d also never quite understand Caido and all its facets. Just learning, one step at a time.
She hadn’t expected the apology either, glancing up from where her paintbrush had started over her uncle’s, electric blue and vibrant against the dark background. “Yours too,” she murmured, chin barely gesturing to the hollowed-out fiddle. Turning back and beginning the brushstrokes once more, she nodded vaguely. “This one is for Nate.”
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
