[se] stand up as horizons

MELITA

Tempting as it was to settle right into the folds of being an outright ass and a defiant little brat, and Melita fought the urge, the youth simply raised her head at the girl’s insinuation. An enticement to grind her teeth along her jaw, to hiss and howl and scare the youth away rose through her chest, and she could feel every ounce of energy pulling her back from the frenetic embrace. She didn’t really care if Kamaria could make a better sand castle (and she doubted it anyway – if she chose to relent into that sudden competitiveness with a child). “Go ahead then,” came on a lofty, imperial, haughty shrug and sigh. Cry, leave, build. It scarcely mattered. That’s what she could tell herself.

Then she began to shape more than just the foundations, whittling and carving upwards, cutting through portions and pieces of the dampened proportions – elongating the procession of mocking-stone. The waves rolled in, greedy and avaricious, but the modest means and earnest structure didn’t threaten to topple; creating a firm base by which it would last and stand.

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