Amalia
the archangel
Amalia is characteristically late, having waffled on whether or not to accept Remi's invitation, to leave her sanctuary of warmth and ease and step back into a world in which she never quite seemed to fit. Ultimately, of course, she decides to go through with it, to follow that golden tug and pass beneath the veil that separates life and death. She has always been a curious creature, and the opportunity to see the her friends and family - that is a gift she cannot pass up, even if it wasn't designed for her.
Barefoot and clad in a thin white dress, the Archangel steps across the threshold of Mort, back to her Father's realm. Senses she has not needed to use in years are flooded at once; the stimulus is nearly overwhelming, and she throws up an arm to defend against the burst of sunlight, toes curling into the coarse sand. Blinking black eyes to clear away the afterburn, Amalia forces herself to inhale, the crisp sea air filling ill-used lungs. Only when she's steady does she at last look around.
The sight that meets her makes her faint.
Joy - everywhere, vibrant and unfurling and unabashed, radiating off of all of them, as clear and warm as the sun. She gasps, hands lifting to her lips, a choked laugh bubbling in her chest as she casts wide eyes around the crowd. There is Sunjata, impossible to miss given his stature. There isSeren, beautiful as she'd been when Amalia had first met her as a young starchild. There are more, too, some she knows and some she does not, but her attention snags and stops as it hits her hosts, a brilliant smile suffusing her angular face.
"Remi! Ronin!" The pair is clearly having a moment, but Amalia doesn't care. She flings herself upon them, slim arms aiming to sweep the pair and their wild-haired toddler into a tight hug. "This is incredible! Congratulations!" Coral lips press kisses on each of their cheeks, with a third pressed into Aoife's curls.
Breathless and beaming, she releases the pair, turning to once more survey their guests. There are even more familiar faces, and among them, to the side, a group of figures she would recognize with her eyes shut, knows by smell and touch and sound alone--
"Deimos," Amalia gasps, onyx eyes widening, taking a tentative step forward as heart begins to race. "Evie." Her footsteps quicken, drawing her nearer, a moth to the flame they represent. And standing among them, radiant and glorious and oh-so-incredibly alive---
"Kiada," the one-time-Shield breathes, halting a stride from the Harpy. She'd known, of course, from her place in Mort's halls, but to see it, to see her as flesh and blood and breath and bone, tangible and close enough to touch as she lifts a shaking hand toward her face--.
Her voice catches, tears gleam in her eyes as she smiles up at the beautiful girl. "Kia. You're alive."
Barefoot and clad in a thin white dress, the Archangel steps across the threshold of Mort, back to her Father's realm. Senses she has not needed to use in years are flooded at once; the stimulus is nearly overwhelming, and she throws up an arm to defend against the burst of sunlight, toes curling into the coarse sand. Blinking black eyes to clear away the afterburn, Amalia forces herself to inhale, the crisp sea air filling ill-used lungs. Only when she's steady does she at last look around.
The sight that meets her makes her faint.
Joy - everywhere, vibrant and unfurling and unabashed, radiating off of all of them, as clear and warm as the sun. She gasps, hands lifting to her lips, a choked laugh bubbling in her chest as she casts wide eyes around the crowd. There is Sunjata, impossible to miss given his stature. There is
"Remi! Ronin!" The pair is clearly having a moment, but Amalia doesn't care. She flings herself upon them, slim arms aiming to sweep the pair and their wild-haired toddler into a tight hug. "This is incredible! Congratulations!" Coral lips press kisses on each of their cheeks, with a third pressed into Aoife's curls.
Breathless and beaming, she releases the pair, turning to once more survey their guests. There are even more familiar faces, and among them, to the side, a group of figures she would recognize with her eyes shut, knows by smell and touch and sound alone--
"Deimos," Amalia gasps, onyx eyes widening, taking a tentative step forward as heart begins to race. "Evie." Her footsteps quicken, drawing her nearer, a moth to the flame they represent. And standing among them, radiant and glorious and oh-so-incredibly alive---
"Kiada," the one-time-Shield breathes, halting a stride from the Harpy. She'd known, of course, from her place in Mort's halls, but to see it, to see her as flesh and blood and breath and bone, tangible and close enough to touch as she lifts a shaking hand toward her face--.
Her voice catches, tears gleam in her eyes as she smiles up at the beautiful girl. "Kia. You're alive."
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
