Lion Head Mesa You're a faded moon, stuck on a little hot mess

It wasn't often Melody woke to the beckoning of a beautiful woman. Not a coyote, nor with the manner of a servant, but the lankiness to her gave Melody enough pause to remember herself. She hid a yawn and stretched as she rose, feigning confidence because she was tired of feeling so awkward.

At least this way, they wouldn't know how afraid she was that they would all just forget about her the moment she walked away.

You're not bothering me, She smiled as she rose, still covered in paint. Hemet, yeah. I'm Melody. For now she only let her questions linger in her eyes; why was she here? Did she need something?