knocking on fate's door

and look for the stars as the sun goes down
each breath that you take has a thunderous sound

It's a sobering piece of information Cian drops on the girl, taking the wind out of her sails as surely as a blow. Part of her wants to scream her frustration - if you'd said something sooner, told anyone, maybe it could have been stopped! - but another, firmer part reminds her that it doesn't matter now. That what's done is done, and she needs to breathe, to move forward rather than remaining caught on the past. So she takes a moment to calm herself, to settle her thunderous heart, her dark eyes never leaving the denim blue until she can breathe again.

Still, Amalia's claws grip the elegant chair hard enough to furrow the wood.

"Okay," the Shield murmurs at last. "So its too late, then." Too late for that. Leaning forward to place her palms on the desk, Amalia regards Cian with weary frankness, so terribly tired of being a step behind. "So what comes next?"

Amalia