with a reverence unimpaired

It is strange and wonderful, to see her memories laid out like paintings, coming to life around her in smoke. She answers the creature's questions dutifully, growing brighter and more relaxed with each word, easing into the role of storyteller with surprising aplomb. The tulmhainar, in turn, grows younger, more alive, wrinkles and lines falling away as he becomes steadily more robust. When she finally runs out of memories to give, Amalia sits back and sighs. One hand pulling absently at a lock of tawny hair, she looks around contentedly, taking in the landscape and enjoying its vastness, the serenity of this place. Turning dark eyes back on the tulmhainar, the baker lets a shy smile cross her lips, hopeful and nervous and eager for an exchange. "Will you tell me about yourself? Where you came from, and how you came to be here, and why you were so hungry if the fae take care of you?" Amalia Her eyes, they know too much. She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.