goodbye, yellow brick road

She likes this side of him: raw and rough, a little angry, willing to stand beside her and scream into the void. Amalia gives her own grin in response, a little bit feral, fire in her eyes. Long Night, indeed, deserves their hatred, though something clouds the girl's face as she recounts her own losses to that worst of times. "Not so often, but every now and then. When... when it's too difficult to keep it all in. Y'know?" She reaches down to grab another loaf, thinking about what else to curse. The next one isn't angry: as Amalia swings the loaf of bread her voice suddenly cracks, loss in the alto timbre, pain and devastation for a wound she has not yet voiced. "Fuck you, Wessex!" Amalia cries, missing the older woman desperately, anger at the gap between causing her arm to shape. Inhaling sharply, the girl sighs, running her hand through her hair. "It's her fault, you know," the girl remarks, tossing a roll between her hands, tightness in her jaw as she turns back to Ronin. "Not Wessex. The Voice. Us being in the barrier. You all coming here. The Blight. She convinces people she can make them bright, but she's taking away their freedom, and their ability to feel. She made the Spire Guardian, and then abandoned it, and it started-" -And it started- "-to rot." She turns toward Ronin, her dark eyes wide, a belated realization crashing down on her. "Ronin. The demon - the Spire monster - I think it had the Blight." Amalia i've been watching your kindness keep a lonely company - look at the fire and think of me