MELITA
Haai and Fangorn were a sight to behold, the gourd launching, the griffin reeling, all an act, all a play, to better serve them in decades to come – when they were more than just stalwart things, but strong and uplifting, capable of forging onward. The pumpkin’s antics and excitement pummeled against her in waves, and she giggled at the delight of it all – content and happy to have a reason to once more. She hadn’t relied upon anyone else for what felt like centuries – when it’d really only been years, childhood severed, destroyed, and discarded for survival amongst ruins and false paragons. Thereafter, there was her and only her, drifting on dust and snow, circumnavigating the earth with bounds, leaps, and hops, threatening to scorch the surface of anyone or anything daring to hurt or maim her again. Perhaps she hadn’t changed much in that regard, desperate for friends, for family, for things other than destruction and mayhem, called to its sanction because treachery and danger were inborn familiarities. Then she’d had others willing to teach, willing to tutor, willing to see her as more than the impulsive little cretin rampaging through forests and groves. Alistair had taught her to be grounded, Roana had taught her to settle into the soil, Wessex had taught her to fight, fight, fight, and then the rest flickered and beamed into place – here and back again, pondering what she was supposed to be doing along this earth.
Sunjata seemed to provide a purpose, a means, instead of her meandering, instead of dragging her feet along dirt and sand, instead of always dreaming of more and more. “Gods know you probably need it,” and then she laughed, leaning into his side hug, uncertain of what else to do, because the notion of comrades had been so damned lost for so damned long. But her heart, her soul, crooned and settled; as if they sensed a return to rapture.
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
